


your eyes betray what burns inside you

by ohgeelato



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Genre: Angst, Canon Divergence, Casual Sex, Dubious Consent, F/F, M/M, Mage!Female Hawke, Non-Explicit Sex, Past Relationships, Slow Build, Tags will probably evolve, Tranquil!Anders, UST kind of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-03
Updated: 2015-10-03
Packaged: 2018-02-07 05:41:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 22,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1887093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohgeelato/pseuds/ohgeelato
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fenris is starting to realize that he may have feelings for Anders that goes beyond lust. The path to admitting anything more is difficult for Fenris, given his history with mages, but he's slowly trying to learn how to deal with his feelings.</p><p>None of it matters though, because before Fenris can tell Anders how he really feels, Anders is captured by the Templars and is made Tranquil.</p><p>Fenris is left completely wretched but it appears that there might still be some hope after all?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Epiphany

**Author's Note:**

> It has been a very, very, very long time since I attempted anything more than just a oneshot. I am notoriously bad at keeping with multi-chaptered fics but I currently have up to five chapters written for this, so I'm hoping that will give me enough buffer for a semi-regular update schedule. I've actually been sitting on this one for a while now, because I'm very attached to this story and I kept dithering on whether it's good enough to be posted or not, but I finally decided, here goes nothing! Please give me some feedback and/or suggestions, and I hope you like this. :)
> 
> P.S.: The title of this was taken from the lyrics of 'I Love You' by Woodkid and the quintet version is an absolutely gorgeous song.

He leaned his head down on Anders’ chest. He’d always noticed how tall Anders was but it was never as pronounced as it is right now as they both lounged on Anders’ tiny cot at the back of his clinic.

For years, he had not dared to hope for things to work out the way that they just did. For years, he had buried his feelings deep within his heart, hiding it even from himself. For years, he had continued to antagonize Anders, because it was the only way he knew to get the mage’s attention all to himself. For years, he had justified that by saying it’s because he hated Anders, hated everything he is, everything he stood for and he wanted to destroy him.

The truth was, he hated that he wanted the mage. He wanted to monopolize the mage and everything he is, he wanted Anders for himself. Lust it was, he told himself, because even he cannot deny that Anders is an attractive man, with his honey-brown eyes and golden hair tied in a messy ponytail and his devilish smile – when he smiled, for those times were getting rarer and rarer, and wasn’t that just a pity?

But now, in the haze after the amazing sex they had just had, with his head resting on Anders’ chest, Fenris felt… unburdened. That isn’t the right word to use to describe what he was feeling, he knew that, but he also knows that he’s never really felt this way before and so is woefully inadequate at describing this feeling.

He felt like he doesn’t have a care in the world. He felt like nothing can detract from this moment. He felt light, almost. He felt peaceful.

Anders strokes his hair and presses a kiss to his head. Fenris’ heart swelled, and for the first time, he realized that the heart can have its own mind.

Maybe it isn’t just lust. Maybe it’s more than just lust. Maybe it’s-

“I’m sorry, you don’t have to stay if you don’t want to,” Anders’ voice suddenly interrupted Fenris’ thoughts. They scatter, like dandelions blown away by the wind, each wisp floating its separate way. He looked up at Anders. The mage had a crease between his brows and Fenris could feel his body, previously so relaxed, suddenly become rigid with discomfort.

“No, I don’t,” Fenris automatically said. The words left him before he could stop himself. Why, _why_ couldn’t he just say what was on his mind? Why did he have to always be so antagonistic?

Even a mere few hours ago, he had pinned the mage against the wall when Anders had simply tried to use magic to heal Fenris’ chronic backache that he, admittedly, was always complaining about.

“Do you think me so weak, that I need magic to soothe such a trivial ache?” Fenris had growled, his brands flaring to light, the tips of his gauntlet threatening to cut the skin on Anders neck.

Anders had coughed, trying to breathe. “I just wanted- to…. help,” the mage had managed to gasp out.

Fenris had loosened his grip and Anders quickly slipped out of his grasp. The mage has become so skinny recently that it was disturbingly easy for him to squeeze out of tight spots.

“Look, I’m sorry-“ Anders had said, but Fenris cut him off when he rushed forward and crashed his lips against Anders’ lips. The mage had almost fallen over backwards, if not for Fenris’ arm catching him and steadying him. At first, Anders’ mouth was slack but a split second later, he was responding to Fenris’ kiss with equal enthusiasm and perhaps a smidge more skill than Fenris.

And that was how they had ended up in their current positions.

“Well, the door’s that way. I’m sure you don’t need me to show you out,” Anders said, moving himself from under Fenris’ head and getting up off the bed. He went to the small basin he had in the corner of his room and splashed his face with some water. He stayed adamantly facing the wall.

A part of Fenris was still stubbornly resisting admitting he had somehow begun to develop feelings for the other person. At the very least, he didn’t want to be the one to admit it first, like a petty child throwing a fit. He didn’t move or say anything, waiting for Anders to be the first to break the silence.

Eventually Anders turned back to face him. “I’m not sure what you’re waiting for?” Anders asked, slightly uncertain.

Fenris paused. He could ask to stay. He was pretty certain the mage would be fine with it.

But despite all the progress he’s made, he found it difficult to cross that final threshold to admitting that he wanted a mage, and of all the mages he knows, he wanted Anders, the abomination he’s spent so many years antagonizing.

Instead of asking to stay, he coughed and said, “Nothing.”

He knew he had screwed up again. He had the perfect opportunity to get what he had always wanted and he had let it slip out of his hand again. So near, yet so far once again.

Fenris dressed as quickly as he could, throwing on just the bare essentials before grabbing his sword and armour and leaving the room. Out in the clinic, he put on his armour, not wanting to risk getting attacked and killed by the Darktown thugs on his way home. He thought he heard Anders come out the door and call his name, but he didn’t want to look back. He was ashamed of himself. He was ashamed that after all these years, he was still trapped by his pride. He hadn’t changed at all.

They avoided each other for a bit after that. This was mostly successful because none of their friends were really surprised that they were avoiding each other. After all, for all they know, Anders and Fenris were probably just avoiding each other because of their obvious ‘hatred’ of each other. They had both played their parts so well that everyone had fallen for it hook, line and sinker.

Aveline would awkwardly show up at Fenris’ mansion with satchels of elfroot, claiming that she didn’t want to find him dying from some small injury he was too stubborn to get healed. Isabela would occasionally invite Anders to come with her to the Blooming Rose, whenever Anders seemed to have a lull in the clinic, to keep him occupied. Even Hawke, usually not the most perceptive of people, avoided asking them along on her various missions together for a while.

Fenris brooded for the majority of those few weeks. He thought of the various things he could have said to Anders’ question that night, instead of what he actually said. He thought of how things could have been so different had he just said the right thing. He thought of how much he still ached for the mage, and he knew for sure that this wasn’t just some sexual frustration that needed to be relieved. And now he would never have a chance as perfect as that again. All those years of pining was for naught.

To be sure, he had even mustered up the courage to go to the Blooming Rose. He wasn’t sure what he was hoping to find out. Maybe he wanted to chalk up that night to mere sexual frustration and thought the brothel would be the place to reveal that truth to himself.

Madame Lusine had been more than accommodating to him, probably because she remembered he was one of Hawke’s companions and now that Hawke was the Champion, everyone went out of their way for her and anyone close to her. Fenris would never get used to that. But for now, he was relieved, because Madame Lusine’s hospitality meant that very few questions were asked, especially as he paid up the coins in advance.

He was led to a table in the hall to wait while they got things ready in the room. He was to be…entertained by Jethann, an elf he vaguely remembered from one of Hawke’s trips to the Blooming Rose many years ago, back when she was just another Fereldan refugee. He prayed that Jethann wouldn’t remember him but he knew, with his distinctive lyrium tattoos and shock of silver hair, it would be difficult for anyone to forget him.

There was a book on the table, and he picked it up to browse through it. Might as well work on his reading since he was waiting. He turned to the cover and tried to read the title.

“The…..Ander…fels,” he muttered aloud. Wait, what? He re-read the title several times to make sure he didn’t read it wrongly. No, he was right the first time. It was a volume on the kingdom of Anderfels; its history, geography and who knows what else. He knew the mage was from the Anderfels and Hawke had mentioned to him once that Anders wasn’t even the mage’s real name; it was just a nickname that had been given to him when the mage first arrived in Ferelden as a young boy.

Fenris wondered what Anders’ real name was and whether he would ever find out what it is. The sudden desire that surged in him to know Anders’ real name caught him by surprise. He had never been particular about names. After all, in Tevinter, the names of slaves were often changed on the whims of their new masters. Even though as far as he can remember, Fenris was the only name he was ever given by Danarius, he was pretty sure Fenris wasn’t the name he had been born with. It was all he had now though.

He wondered if Hawke knew Anders’ real name. There was something about Hawke that prompted people to tell her things. She was just good with people that way. Fenris wished he could learn that skill. He also wished he could ask her for Anders’ real name.

Opening the book, he began to struggle through the first few pages. A part of him insisted he was just whiling away the time, but he knew better. He wanted to learn more about where the mage was from. He wanted to know everything about the mage. He wanted- oh, how much he wanted.

The realization hit him like a sack of bricks. He stood up so suddenly that he almost knocked the table over. Was there any point in the brothel now?

With a muttered apology to Madame Lusine, who seemed annoyed but forgiving when Fenris said she could keep the money, he left the brothel.

His epiphany at the Blooming Rose cleared some things up for him, but he still didn’t quite know how to approach the mage. What he had with the mage, all their arguments and sniping at each other, that was routine for them, almost protocol. It was safe and comfortable and Fenris knew what was expected from him and what to expect from the mage. That one night at the clinic had been beyond Fenris’ imagination, but it had also been an anomaly.

Not to mention, now that they had simply ignored each other for so long, Fenris didn’t know how to bridge the gap without making it worse. If he just confronted the mage, things could either turn out well or end disastrously.

In the end, Fenris continued avoiding the mage. It was just easier that way. He was still just a coward.


	2. Guardian

Just several days after the incident at the Blooming Rose, joining the usual suspects at Varric’s suite unexpectedly for their regular game of Wicked Grace was Anders, a weary smile on his face. When questioned on his sudden appearance, despite having stopped coming to their gatherings a few months ago, he had simply answered, “Good friends are hard to come by these days,” with one of those small smiles that was meant to be comforting but looked more like a grimace.

Fenris’ heart almost immediately began hammering away inside him and he felt a rush of heat creep up on the back of his neck. He hadn’t been expecting Anders to show up but now that he was here, Fenris felt weird inside. Anders looked even more haggard than usual, and his hair wasn’t even tied up properly. Fenris wondered if it was just him or if Anders had lost weight again, from how pronounced his cheekbones had become.

Anders took the seat opposite Fenris, stretching his legs and accidentally bumping into Fenris’ toes.

“Sorry,” the mage muttered immediately, retracting his long legs so quickly that he rammed his knees into the underside of the table. Anders winced at the pain, but said nothing otherwise.

“No, it’s fine,” Fenris found himself saying.

Everyone stared. At him.

“Are you ill?” Hawke asked, the first to break the silence.

“No, I feel fine, why would I be ill?” Fenris replied, brows furrowed in confusion at the odd question.

A flash of something he couldn’t quite put his finger on crossed Anders’ face, but before he could figure it out - it felt like he should know what it is, why doesn’t he know what it is? - Isabela, who was sat next to Fenris, interrupted, crowing triumphantly, “Four-of-a-kind! Pay up, lovelies!”

Everyone’s attention was directed back to the Rivaini and a round of groans and complains rippled through the table. Nobody bothered to accuse Isabela of cheating anymore; they had long ago realized that playing Wicked Grace with Isabela was more a game of seeing who could cheat better, rather than an actual game of luck. Fenris had never been gladder to lose at Wicked Grace.

After several more rounds of Wicked Grace and decidedly a lot more rounds of ale, they all left The Hanged Man more or less drunk, except for Anders.

A very drunk Hawke had one arm draped over Anders shoulders and was nuzzling into the crook of his shoulder. It was an admittedly awkward position with the difference in height but Hawke was evidently too far gone to care. Anders, to his credit, was trying hard to push Hawke’s nuzzling aside while still trying to support her mostly dead weight.

“Feath’r,” Hawke mumbled, her other hand stroking Anders’ feathery pauldrons.

“Hawke, stop. I can’t walk with you grabbing at me the whole time,” Anders said, pushing Hawke’s hand away unsuccessfully.

“Why’re you so nice to me, huh? Hmm?” Hawke asked, pointing an accusing finger at Anders chest. She suddenly focused really intently on his chest. “Mm, tha’s a nice chest you got thurr,” she slurred, poking it several times to make her point.

Before Fenris could think about what he was doing, he was in front of Anders and Hawke.

“Give me Hawke,” Fenris demanded. Without waiting for an answer, he took Hawke’s other arm and put it around his shoulders instead, pulling her away from Anders. Hawke made little noises of protest at first, but then nestled her head comfortably on Fenris’ shoulder.

“M’ch better. Good height,” Hawke approved as she patted Fenris’ other shoulder.”

I’ll walk her home. It’s along my way,” Fenris justified his actions to a frowning Anders. He started walking away, expecting to hear Anders’ footsteps go the other way. Instead, he saw the mage keep pace with him, walking in the same direction.

“Did you drink too much as well? Darktown is in the other direction,” Fenris asked stiffly, wondering what the mage wanted. Wondering if it’s the same thing he wanted.

“I was going to take the underground route from Hawke’s estate. Too many Templars around Darktown these days,” the mage explained.

Fenris didn’t know what to say to that. He hadn’t known about the Templar invasion of Darktown. He had been so preoccupied with his own woes that he never gave much thought to what the other man was going through. He shifted his balance uncomfortably and Hawke, who was mostly asleep at that point, made tiny mewling noises of protests which petered off into contented sighs.

It wasn’t exactly an awkward silence after that, and if it was, it was entirely Fenris’ fault. Anders seemed content to just walk beside Fenris, occasionally glancing at Hawke - who was now being carried on Fenris’ back - to make sure she was okay.

Fenris, on the other hand, could have sworn it was no longer summer, so why did his whole body feel so hot and his throat so dry?

They finally arrived at Hawke’s mansion after what seemed like hours to Fenris. Anders opened the door, presumably to let Fenris and Hawke in, but the mage stopped him.

“I’m leaving from the tunnels from here anyway, I’ll take her in,” he offered.

“No, I will bring her in,” Fenris said, figuring that he might as well, since he was already there and Hawke was sleeping so comfortably on his back.

“Why are you being so stubborn?” Anders suddenly asked.

“What are you talking about? I am simply aiding a friend,” Fenris deflected, not liking where the conversation was going. Maybe he should just leave Hawke with Anders, but it was too late for that now.

“It’s more than that, I think. I think this is about you and Hawke,” Anders said bluntly.

That really threw Fenris off. True, he regarded Hawke as a person in the highest esteem and respected her skills and control as a mage but he’d never thought of her romantically. The idea never even crossed his mind, if he’s to be honest. He didn’t quite know what to say to that.

“It’s not... I have never thought of-” Fenris began, trying to collect his thoughts, but Anders interrupted angrily.

“I know I was just a convenient fuck for you, something to enjoy for one night but you could at least try and be more tactful about it. I know I was just a replacement for Hawke that night, but you don’t need to be so possessive of her, okay?” Anders said, his temper flaring.

“Wha-“ Fenris was genuinely confused. Where was Anders getting these ideas from?

Anders interrupted him again. “Just give me Hawke,” he said, this time in a resigned tone, as if he just didn’t want to argue with Fenris anymore, even though Fenris hadn’t been arguing with him this time.

The mage gently pulled one of Hawke’s arms around his shoulders and carried her from her waist. He walked into the Hawke mansion without looking back at Fenris, who stood, still too shocked from what had just happened to say or do anything.

Unsettled, he paid little attention as he walked back to his mansion, almost walking into someone. He muttered an apology, looking up at the man. It was a Templar, with three others of his brethren.

“Watch where you’re going, knife-ears!” the Templar growled. Fenris gritted his teeth and refrained from replying. He didn’t want to get into a fight unnecessarily, especially not after what had happened that night. He looked down and began to walk away when one of the other Templars stopped him.

“Wait a minute. You, have you seen any suspicious character around here tonight?”

Fenris tensed and asked, “What sort of suspicious character?”

“The sort of suspicious character that might be a mage,” the Templar replied, not appreciating Fenris’ inane question.

“I saw someone in robes heading towards that direction,” Fenris said, pointing vaguely in the opposite direction of Hawke’s mansion. “You might have to hurry to catch up, it was quite a while ago,” he added.

Without even a word of thanks, the four Templars charged down the direction Fenris was pointing out, probably waking up the whole neighbourhood with the noise their armour was making.

This was a worrying turn of events, Fenris thought, looking at the Templars walking away. If the Templars were actively seeking apostates, Anders would almost certainly be on the top of that list. And didn’t Anders himself say Templars have been snooping around in Darktown more often than usual lately?

The next day, Fenris found himself outside the clinic, hiding from plain sight, but in a position where he could see who was coming to the clinic. He was also close enough to the clinic to get to Anders in case any Templars did get through.

He settled in his spot nicely, lounging in between some stacked crates. His sword was propped up next to the wall and he had brought one of the books Hawke had lent him since she’s started teaching him how to read. She had given him one of her patented smirks before declaring him fit enough to read this. Then she had thrust this tome of a book in his hands. It took him a few seconds to read the title.

“Hard…in…Hightown?” he asked, frowning at Hawke.

“It’s practically a literary classic. Who doesn’t like a dirty guard on the edge?” Hawke had replied lightly.

Fenris had been suspicious but finally he had been curious enough to begin reading it. Now, he was almost halfway through the book and he found that, despite its obvious source of inspiration, he quite liked the book.

Over the course of the next two weeks, Fenris spent most of his days in between those crates. He grew used to the darkness and dank smell of Darktown. He grew used to the occasional rat scurrying past. He even grew to recognize some of the regular patients of the clinic.

But he was right to stand guard outside Anders clinic. On a couple of occasions, he saw some Templars asking questions around the area. He didn’t want to cause suspicion by killing all the Templars patrolling Darktown so usually he or someone else he paid would approach the Templars and send them off in a different direction.

His self-imposed guard duty also gave him a chance to observe Anders more in what is arguably his natural habitat. He has stayed overnight in the clinic before, but always when he was severely injured and usually when he was unconscious. He’s never really had a chance to see how Anders was like when in his clinic and surrounded by patients.

He realized that Anders is the same to all his patients; gentle, tactful and overly-compassionate.  He once saw Anders collapse from exhaustion after healing a particularly gory stomach injury suffered by a mine worker. Irrationally, he felt a stab of jealousy. He had always assumed that Anders reserved that sort of heroic healing for Hawke and her little band of misfits. As it so happened, Fenris was almost always the one with the most grievous injuries, probably because his huge sword was like a beacon of light to the enemies. So yes, he had always just thought that Anders only ever poured heart and soul into healing his injuries. He should have known better though, it’s not like Anders belongs to only him.

There were a few close calls where Anders almost discovered him. Once, a cat wandered in between the crates. At first, Fenris just ignored the creature, but he heard Anders walking out of his clinic, calling out, “Here, kitty, I’ve got some milk for you.” When he couldn’t see the cat, he called out again, “Kitty, kitty, kitty, I’ve got milk, where did you go this time?”

Fenris widened his eyes but before he could do anything, the cat meowed loudly. He could hear Anders’ footsteps coming closer and closer. Panicking, he shoved the cat out between the crates and pressed himself further into the shadows. He could see Anders’ shadow looming from behind the crates. He held his breath, hoping that the cat would go towards the mage instead of slinking back into the shadows.

Luckily, he heard Anders go, “There you are!” and then the cat meowing again. He must have picked up the cat right next to the crates. Fenris heard Anders walking away, muttering to the cat, “What were you doing there, Miffles?”

Another time, he had shifted his position because it was getting uncomfortable sitting in the same position for too long when he knocked over his sword. The sword fell to the ground, crashing with a mighty sound. Fenris winced, hoping against odds nobody heard anything. But he heard the door to the clinic being slammed open.

“Who’s there?” Anders had demanded in a voice not his own. From behind the crates, Fenris could see the blue light illuminating the shadows. He bit back a curse. Bloody Justice.

After a few seconds of being greeted with silence, the blue flared out, followed by the door closing. Fenris sighed in relief. He was in more and more danger of being exposed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the relatively slow update but I am currently in Nice, France, for a month where the seas are blue and the sun is scorching and the wifi just refuses to work for me. I've got the chapters done, like I've mentioned previously but it's just getting them uploaded that's a problem for me. Let's hope I can get the wifi to work again for me soon, so I can get more stuff uploaded. :)


	3. Disaster

One early morning, as he was about to leave the house for his usual guard post at the clinic, he opened the door to find Hawke right outside.

“Fenris! I need your help, right now. Some crazy Templars and mages have taken Isabela to the Wounded Coast,” Hawke said, her face paler than a ghost and urgency in every word.

“What?” was Fenris’ first reaction. Why would the Templars and mages take Isabela? And how did they manage to restrain Isabela?

“No time to explain, we need to go get her back _now_ ,” Hawke punctuated her last word forcefully, back already turned, ready to head off.

“Who else is coming?” Fenris asked, quickly following Hawke. Luckily he was already ready to leave the house when she came.

“Merrill and Varric. I’ve already told them to meet us at the Kirkwall gates.”

After they met up with the other two, they half ran, half walked briskly the way to the Wounded Coast. But they had a huge area to cover once they were there and Hawke was getting more desperate, and by extension more reckless, every minute. She was anxious to split up so that they could cover more ground, but the others insisted they stick together. The Wounded Coast was dangerous enough for a party of four, but for a single person or even a pair of people…. It became downright fatal.

After hours of searching, Hawke began to grow pensive, as if she was bracing herself for the worst possible scenario. The sun was already low on the horizon and there was little time left to search for Isabela before they would be forced to make camp.

Fenris suddenly remembered all those years ago, when they first found the old viscount’s son with a Qunari in a maze-like corner of the Wounded Coast. That would be the perfect place to hold someone hostage. They quickly headed towards that area of the Wounded Coast. When they got close, Fenris’ lyrium tattoos started tingling.

“There are mages nearby,” he whispered to the others, “Isabela must be close.”

Everyone else’s faces grew grim and they all prepared themselves for a bloody fight. None of them really wanted to be fighting Templars and mages for various reasons, but in this case, they weren’t given much choice.

They stumbled upon Ser Thrask, a Templar whom Fenris had found to be upstanding with a somewhat reasonable head on his shoulders, leading a group of rogue Templars along with some Circle mages. He recognized a couple of the mages as those Hawke had saved all those years ago. What were their names again? That’s right, Alain and Grace. The dark-skinned boy looked terrified by what was going on. Grace, on the other hand, had a cruel scowl on her face. She was clearly unhappy with what Hawke and Thrask were talking about, with her crossed arms and occasional sneer.

The situation quickly took a turn for the worst when Grace butted into the conversation. Before Fenris knew what was happening, there were shades and abominations and mages and Templars attacking them. Instinct took over.

His tattoos lit up and he phased into a lyrium ghost. He practically glided across the battlefield, stalking his prey, slashing and slicing his enemies. With his armour and lyrium tattoos protecting most of him, their attacks usually just bounced off him. Whatever small injuries he did get though, he barely noticed in the frenzy of the battle.

With one last great swing, he decapitated an abomination. He turned around, looking for his next target, but all he saw were dead bodies and Hawke, Merrill and Varric.

Hawke was already running towards an unconscious Isabela, tied up and tossed on the ground next to a campfire. She fumbled around her pouches for an elfroot potion, uncorked it and tipped it slowly into Isabela’s mouth.

“C’mon, Isabela, drink the potion,” Hawke murmured. A split second later, Isabela woke with a start.

“What the blistering-” were the first words that left Isabela’s mouth when she gained consciousness again. “I’m going to kill those bastards!” she swore.

“We already did that for you, Rivaini,” Varric said. Isabela looked around and saw the carnage. She grinned.

“Well. That saves me the effort and time. Now, if someone would like to untie me? Or not, I don’t really mind either way,” Isabela said, smirking lasciviously at her last sentence. Hawke rolled her eyes heavenwards.

“I can’t believe I was worried about you,” Hawke said exasperatedly. Isabela’s eyebrows shot up but only for a second. She turned her face away from Hawke.

“Seriously though, somebody untie me. I’m not going back to Kirkwall trussed up like a chicken,” Isabela said, still not looking at Hawke. Merrill quickly began to cut the ropes.

They managed to reach the Kirkwall gates an hour or so after the sun began to go down, so it wasn’t too dark yet. Fenris wanted to hurry to Darktown to check on Anders. He had been so caught up and concerned with the abduction of Isabela that he hadn’t had time to worry about Anders. But Isabela insisted he join them for a celebratory drink at The Hanged Man.

“You don’t need a celebration to drink,” he had replied, slightly annoyed. Usually he would be the first to join in for any drinks, but he had other more pressing issues currently.

“Don’t be such a spoilsport, I was just saved from abduction from those big bad Templars and mages. I think I deserve a drink. I think we all deserve a drink. To celebrate my heroes, who saved me from a fate better left unknown,” Isabela shuddered at the end.

“I actually have somewhere else to be,” Fenris said, rolling his back to feel his sword shift behind him. It was a nervous habit that he developed when he went on the run from Danarius. It helped remind him that his sword was still behind him and still very capable of doing significant damage. It wasn’t like the sheer weight of the sword couldn’t remind him that it’s still there, but it’s still comforting to feel the sword swing slightly behind his back when he moved.

That piqued Isabela’s interest, “Where do you have to be?” She sidled up closer to him, a mischievous gleam in her eyes. She was just saved from an abduction a few hours ago, and she was already back to her normal ways. She was just plain incorrigible.

“That is none of your business,” Fenris huffed.

Hawke put one arm around Isabela’s shoulders in what Fenris was sure was meant to be casual but just seemed possessive and said, “Come on, Isabela, leave him alone. He’s a busy elf, I’m sure.”

Isabela pouted but she leaned in slightly into Hawke’s shoulder. “Fine,” she conceded, “but this isn’t over, Fenris!” Isabela winked at him as Hawke dragged her away with Varric and Merrill towards The Hanged Man.

As soon as they turned the corner, Fenris raced towards Darktown. When he got to Anders’ clinic, everything took a turn for the worse.

There was a large group of people in front of the clinic, all peering inside but no one was actually going inside. From where he was, Fenris could see that one of the doors to the clinic had been ripped off its hinges.

He pushed through the crowd, but his keen ears caught some of what the people were saying.

“…came out of nowhere…”

“…people running…”

“…blue light…”

“…Templars…”

 _Templars_. Panic seized his heart when he heard that word. He stopped and grabbed the man who had said that word.

“Did the Templars come here?” Fenris demanded.

The man’s face scowled and began to say something, “Who do you think you-“ His sentence was cut off abruptly when Fenris snarled and lifted the man slightly off the ground.

“Answer my question,” he warned the man, igniting his tattoos briefly.

The man paled and stammered, “Y-yes, some Templars came here for the healer.”

Fenris growled in frustration, “And the healer. What happened to him?”

“H-he tried to fight them off, I-I guess. Everyone c-came running out. I s-saw some blue light and th-then nothing. The Tem-Templars left after that, dragging the he-healer with them.”

Fenris’ eyes widened. For a moment, he thought a deep dark chasm had opened up beneath his feet and threatened to swallow him. He dropped the man to his feet, suddenly losing all his strength. The man yelped in surprise and scrambled away.

He made his way through the crowd with cursory attempts at pushing his way through. Most of the people moved out of his way because they had saw the exchange between him and the other man and didn’t want to get involved.

When he reached the clinic, he saw it was in complete disarray, cots and tables and chairs thrown around, most of them broken. Anders’ supply of potions and herbs, usually arranged immaculately on the shelves were smashed against the floor. Fenris barely noticed the broken glass under his feet as he walked around the clinic, trying to find something – anything – that would prove the man was lying. He clung onto that hope. Maybe he was just lying. Maybe Anders successfully fought off the Templars. Maybe it wasn’t even the Templars, just some fancy armoured men.

But the more he stayed in the clinic, the quieter it became as more and more people left, satisfied with knowing that nothing else interesting was happening. Fenris went into the back room, thinking maybe Anders was hiding in the back room. He could be injured!

The back room was in a worse state than the clinic itself. The walls and floors were scorched with burn marks and many of Anders’ possession seemed to either be burnt or slashed up. This seemed to be where the mage had made his last stand against the Templars.

Fenris tried knocking on the walls to see if he was hiding, “Anders? Mage! Where are you?!”

He was greeted with silence. He stared numbly at the mess that was once Anders’ sanctum of healing and salvation, now turned into struggle and regret. From the corner of his eyes, he saw Anders’ beloved pillow – the one he had tried to give to Varric – under the cot, slashed practically into ribbons. He bent down to pick it up gently. The pillow limped forlornly in his grasp, most of the filling having already fallen out. It was more fabric than pillow at that point. He tucked it into his pouches, knowing that Anders would probably want it back when he came back. Fenris turned to leave when something else caught his eye.

A long dark red sash was wedged in the hinges of the door. It looked like what Anders usually used to tie up his hair. On an impulse, Fenris tugged it out and wrapped it around his gauntlet. It served as a stark reminder of how he failed to protect Anders, how he let Anders get taken away by the Templars. He was going to get Anders back, no matter what.

“Fenris? What are you doing here?” He was jolted out of his reverie by a familiar voice.

It was Varric and Hawke, standing inside the clinic. They both looked in disbelief and bewildered.

“What are you doing here?” Fenris asked.

“When we reached The Hanged Man, there was a messenger waiting for me. He told me earlier in the day, some Templars raided the clinic without warning. He said Anders was taken. We’re here to make sure he wasn’t lying,” Varric said.

“I guess he wasn’t lying then?” Hawke asked, looking around the clinic, her expression hardened.

“No, the mage is gone,” Fenris said harshly.

Varric cursed and shook his head sadly. Hawke curled her fingers into fists and said, “I’m going to talk to Carver. We need to know exactly what happened to Anders.”

“I’m coming with you,” Fenris said curtly.

Varric raised his eyebrows in surprise. Even Hawke was taken aback, “What? Why would you? You don’t even care about Anders. In fact, why are you even here?”

Fenris looked at the red sash tied tightly around his gauntlet again and said, “I care more than you think.”

Hawke sent a messenger boy to tell Carver to meet up with them at Varric’s suite in The Hanged Man the next day. Fenris couldn’t sleep that night, tossing and turning on his bed. He couldn’t shake off the guilt he felt for abandoning his post. He knew that the Templars had been poking around in Darktown, knew that they had been looking for Anders. Why did he leave the clinic unprotected that day? Why didn’t he just ask Hawke to ask Aveline to go rescue Isabela instead of him? Why, why, why?

The questions swam in his mind, taunting him. Eventually he gave up trying to sleep, opting instead to stare at the fire crackling in the fireplace till it burned into embers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's my last day in Nice! I'm headed to the UK for vacation for about a week now so again, I apologize for the slow updates, but once I get back home, I will try to be more diligent about the updates.
> 
> Thanks so much for reading!


	4. Horror

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a Fenders 8tracks playlist I made that goes with the story, kinda. http://8tracks.com/geelato/fade-away-fenris-anders. It's always nice to listen to something while reading/writing, I find. Enjoy! :)

The next morning, Fenris headed to The Hanged Man early. Hawke wasn’t there yet but Varric was already awake.

They settled into a comfortable silence before Varric broke it. He cleared his throat, paused, and then cleared his throat again. “Broody, I, ah, didn’t want to bring this up with the others around, but I’ve been hearing about a particularly striking elf hanging around Anders clinics for weeks now.” He paused again then continued, “Would you happen to know who it is?”

Fenris rolled his back, taking his time looking at the fireplace. Varric was almost about to change the subject when Fenris finally answered, “Yes, it was me. I had heard about increased Templar activity in Darktown, so I tried to keep them away from the clinic.”

Varric kept quiet – a rare feat – to encourage Fenris to keep talking.

“The mage… Anders… I do not hate him,” Fenris began. He didn’t know why he was trusting the dwarf, considering Varric was known for his skill in storytelling. But Varric was being unusually somber and Fenris knew instinctively that whatever was said between the two of them right now would stay between the two of them.

“I…care for him,” Fenris admitted finally. He felt a great burden ease off his shoulders. He felt lighter, as if a dam had been undone and everything he had kept bottled up inside had come rushing out.

Varric merely nodded and asked, “Did Blondie know?”

And with that question, everything came crashing down around his ears again. Fenris sagged in the chair. He shook his head slowly, the wisp of his white hair partially blocking his sight of Varric.

“No, I never told him,” Fenris said, regret lacing every word.

Varric looked pitifully at him, then said half-heartedly, “You know how Hawke is, Broody. She’ll either talk or bully or fight her way through. I’m sure we’ll get Blondie back within a week.”

Fenris dared not hope for even that much.

A while later, Hawke and Carver came to Varric’s suite at the same time. Carver looked sullen while Hawke just looked angry. She slammed her fist on the table before sitting down heavily on the chair. Carver didn’t look at any of them.

“Meredith set us up!” Hawke exclaimed, slamming her fist on the table again.

“What do you mean?” Fenris asked, deciding to hold out on losing his temper until he gathered all the information.

“Meredith knew some of her Templars had ganged up with the mages and knew that they would move against me. Once she learned I was out of Kirkwall dealing with the rogue Templars and mages, she swooped in to get Anders. She killed two birds with one stone, and made a complete and utter fool out of me!” Hawke explained, her voice getting louder as she got angrier.

Fenris turned to Carver and asked urgently, “Where is Anders right now? What are they doing to him?”

“He’s in the Gallows right now,” Carver said. He pursed his lips and continued, “But they know Anders is a friend of the Champion and they know I’m the Champion’s little brother, so they won’t tell me anything else about him. All I know is that he’s Meredith’s number one priority right now.” Carver then fell back into his sulking.

This time it was Fenris’ turn to get frustrated. He yelled and punched the wall. Cracks appeared on the wall and dust shook down from the ceiling. Varric winced but said nothing.

“We have to do something, Hawke. We can’t leave Anders in the Gallows,” Fenris said, already ready to move.

“Fenris, wait. We have to think this through,” Hawke said, apparently having been calmed down by Fenris’ outburst.

“No, we are not wasting any more time,” Fenris insisted.

“This is Meredith we are talking about, not some random Templar. Right now, she has the authority of the city,” Hawke explained.

Fenris growled, “I don’t care, Hawke. We need to get Anders back.”

Hawke gave him a level stare and asked, “Why do you suddenly care so much about Anders?”

That stopped Fenris short. He tried coming up with a cover, “He’s our only healer, Hawke, and even I’m not stupid enough to deny the fact that he’s saved my life more than a couple of times. I can at least repay the favour.”

Hawke gave him another look, sighed and stood up, “Fine, we’ll go talk to Meredith now. But I can tell you right now that we’re not going to get anywhere without a plan. She’s just going to stonewall us.”

“We won’t know till we try,” Fenris said determinedly, already walking out. The others followed suit.

When they arrived in the Gallows, none of the Templars who usually greeted or at the very least acknowledged them would look them in the eye. Even Cullen, who was always at his station, was glaringly missing that day.

This did not bode well but Fenris banished those feelings of uneasiness to the back of his mind.

No one tried to stop them when they entered the Templars Hall. Carver left them then, saying that he had other duties to attend to, but Fenris knew he just didn’t want to get more involved in this matter. Hawke suggested they talk to Orsino first – if anyone could tell them anything, it would be the First Enchanter.

Orsino was reading a tome behind his desk when they entered his office. He looked up slowly, as if he knew exactly who was in his tiny office and had been expecting them for some time now. Before anyone could say anything, Orsino sighed deeply and rubbed his temples.

“I assume you know why we’re here?” Hawke asked, hand on her hip. Despite being a mage herself, Hawke never really seemed to like Orsino. She tolerated him and sometimes helped him with the mages, but Fenris always got the sense that Hawke did not think very highly of the First Enchanter.

“First of all, I’d like you to know that I tried my best to stop Meredith,” Orsino said, closing the tome he was reading and putting it away. He stood up and walked to his door. He gestured at Meredith’s office, directly opposite his own, and said, “But there is nothing I can do to change Meredith’s mind. She will not listen to me. To her, I am merely a puppet leader.”

“What did Meredith do?” Hawke asked, urgency creeping into her voice.

Orsino shook his head, “You should talk to Meredith. I’m sorry.”

Fenris didn’t want his apology, he just wanted the truth. Everyone in the Gallows was being extremely unhelpful and annoyingly enigmatic right now. He stalked past Orsino, glaring at him as he left and pounded on Knight-Commander Meredith’s door.

Almost immediately, Meredith opened the door. She raised an eyebrow at Fenris and said, “You are not who I was expecting.”

Hawke sidestepped Fenris. “Were you expecting more along the lines of an extremely confused and pissed off Champion? Because hello, here I am,” Hawke said and waved a little at the end.

Meredith grew grim, “Are you threatening me, Champion?”

“Me? Threaten you? Never! At least not in the Gallows where your people outnumber us probably fifty to one,” Hawke said exaggeratedly, rolling her eyes, obviously mocking Meredith. But then Hawke grew serious suddenly, her expression hardening, all pretense of humor gone and she asked in a flinty voice, “Where is Anders and what have you done to him?”

The Knight-Commander’s face changed to match Hawke’s, “We have finally successfully captured that apostate who has evaded us for years. Not only was he an apostate, he was inciting the mages and was dangerous!”

“What…have…you…done…to Anders?” Hawke enunciated every word slowly, clearly not about to be cowed by Meredith. Fenris curled his fists tightly; he had very little patience for all this exchange of words that take forever to get anywhere and yet he knew this was how things worked. After all, he can’t just barge into everything with his sword poised and ready. If he could, he would have had to wade through pools of blood through most of his life as a free elf.

Meredith was not one to back down either. With both of them locked in a staring contest, Meredith broke eye contact first. The edges of Hawke’s lips tugged upwards, but she wasn’t given much chance to celebrate her small victory. The Knight-Commander barked at the Templars standing outside, “Bring the apostate here!”

It was a tense silence as they waited for Anders to be brought there. Fenris’ ears perked when he heard the distinctive clanging of the Templar armour making its way down the corridor again. He heard three sets of footsteps.

When the two Templars came back to the office, Anders was with them.

For the second time that week, everything stopped moving for a moment for Fenris. His vision narrowed and all he could see was the sunburst symbol branded into Anders’ forehead.

Hawke gasped aloud. Varric closed his eyes tightly, and exhaled heavily.

“What can I do for you, messeres?” the Tranquil Anders said, in a mild tone.

Meredith smirked triumphantly. “I warned you, Champion. Friend of yours or not, I was going to catch and punish your apostate someday.”

For the first time, Hawke seemed speechless. She looked horrified and her jaw hung open, as if she couldn’t believe what she was looking at. Finally, she turned to Meredith and said, “What have you done?”

“I have done my duty to Kirkwall. This apostate had a demon in him! He was an abomination! You should be glad I did not just execute him and be done with it!” Meredith was practically shouting at them now, her indignation clear in her tone.

Fenris suddenly heard himself whisper repeatedly, “No no no no no no no no no.”

Anders approached him and asked so incredibly politely, “Are you okay, Messere Fenris?”

Fenris nearly collapsed from the rush of emotions he was suddenly experiencing. He’d waited for a very long time to hear something nice directed at him from Anders, but this was not how he had wanted it to happen.

He looked Anders in the eye and it was just so wrong. His eyes, whether they were amber brown or electric blue, had always seemed to be full of life and passion and emotion to Fenris. Now they were unnervingly dull and glassy, devoid of any emotion.

“Are you okay?” Fenris heard himself asking. He felt like he was out of his body right now, he had no control over what he was saying or doing.

Anders cocked his head, as if he was trying to figure out how to answer the question.

“I’m fine. I’m not hurt or ill,” he replied after a moment’s thought.

Fenris closed his eyes. He couldn’t bear to look at Anders like that for another second.

“That’s not what he meant!” he heard Hawke shout.

“What did he mean then?” Anders asked, his voice still monotonous.

There was a pause, then Hawke said, “Oh, Anders, I am so sorry. I never meant for this to happen.”

Fenris heard a sob coming from Hawke. He felt Varric move closer to him. Varric said sadly, “We should go soon. There’s nothing we can do for Blondie now.”

Anders heard Varric and said, “Thank you for visiting me. But I should get back to my tasks now.” He bowed politely and the Templars escorted him out the office. Fenris just listened to him leave. He finally opened his eyes again.

Hawke was glaring at Meredith but the Knight-Commander was unfazed. “I was only doing my duty of protecting Kirkwall,” she repeated. Hawke kept silent, and Meredith must have felt prompted to defend herself again because she continued, “Do not brand me a tyrant when you cannot think of another way to protect Kirkwall.”

Hawke shook her head slowly, “You’re not a tyrant, Meredith. You’re just insane. How many more mages are you going to make Tranquil or kill before you are satisfied? How many more before you cut off my head and give it to the people of Kirkwall on a silver platter?” Meredith seemed ready to protest but Hawke cut her off, “Don’t deny it, Meredith. I see it on your face. You can’t wait to see me stumble and fail in the public’s eye. You can’t wait to get your hands on the apostate Champion. Well, I’m not going to give you the satisfaction, Meredith. You will rot long before you see me fail.”

It wasn’t a real threat, but it sounded close enough to one that Meredith was nearly red with anger. Before she could burst though, Hawke shook her head again and left the office. Varric tugged Fenris out after Hawke.

They were all unusually quiet during the walk to The Hanged Man, each one lost in their own thoughts. But they were all thinking along the lines of the same thing: there had never been a rescue mission as disastrous as this one.

When they returned to The Hanged Man, everyone else was gathered there. Isabela was lounging on one of the seats and she drawled when she saw them come in, “So, I expect you have either charmed or fought your way out with Anders by now?”

Fenris bit his lip. Hawke and Varric both shook their heads.

“Anders was….made Tranquil. We were too late,” Varric said, referring to Anders by his name for the first time in a very long time.

Everyone had a similar reaction. Stunned silence.

Isabela was the first to speak, “You’re kidding. I don’t believe Hawke couldn’t get Anders out of there.”

Hawke looked down and said, “I tried, but…Meredith had already made him Tranquil by the time we got to the Gallows.”

The room suddenly erupted with questions. Hawke and Varric were trying their best to answer their questions when Aveline asked something really important, “What are they going to do to Anders now?”

“I don’t know, probably make him run errands for them or sell stuff at the Gallows,” Hawke said bitterly.

“We have to kill him,” Fenris heard someone say. A moment passed before he realized everyone had gone quiet and was staring at him. Another moment passed before he realized he was the one who had uttered those words.

“I can’t believe you’re using this as an excuse to kill him, you son of a bitch!” Isabela said angrily.

“It’s what he would have wanted,” Fenris said calmly. He suddenly felt very cold inside because he has realized that there is only one way for this to end.

“What would you know-“ Isabela started, but Hawke cut her off.

“Fenris is right,” Hawke said, her voice laden with guilt. She wouldn’t even look any of them in the eye. “Anders would not have wanted to live as a Tranquil.”

“I would wish for someone kind enough to not let me live like that,” Fenris intoned. He was saying these things and he was saying them calmly because he knew them to be true, but he felt like he was watching the whole thing from a perch above, instead of being an active participant in the conversation.

“You all remember what happened to Karl. It killed Anders to kill him, but he had to do it. Life as a Tranquil isn’t a life,” Hawke insisted.

Aveline pursed her lips but agreed with Hawke. Isabela continued to argue against the idea.

Fenris kept quiet. He had said his piece and he was certain of the outcome of this discussion, especially with Hawke backing him up. But he noticed Merrill had not said anything at all since they came back from the Gallows and was in fact, biting her lips contemplatively. Fighting against every instinct in him to stay away from the blood mage, he approached Merrill.

“What are you thinking?” he asked.

Merrill seemed to have been startled by Fenris’ sudden question and stammered for a bit, “Oh! Erm, Fenris, I didn’t see you there. Um, nothing, I wasn’t thinking about anything in particular.”

Fenris cocked his head and stared her down. Merrill started squirming under his gaze.

“I know you don’t trust me and you will probably think this is a bad idea, but I’ve heard that there might be some way to…. to make someone not Tranquil again,” Merrill said haltingly. Fenris jerked and Merrill flinched.

“What do you mean? How does one do that?” he asked, leaning closer to Merrill without thinking. Hope clawed at the edge of his thoughts. Merrill was clearly uncomfortable with him being so close to him though as she leaned back before answering, “I-I’m not quite sure myself. I’ve just heard Keeper Marethari mention it once, merely that it might be possible, a long time ago.”

Raising his voice, Fenris called Hawke over, leaving Varric to deal with the others.

“Merrill says there might be a way to reverse Anders’ Tranquility,” Fenris said as calmly as he could. He doesn’t want to jinx this.

Hawke’s eyebrows shot up, “Really? I’ve never heard otherwise before.”

Merrill was biting on her lip again but with the two of them staring at her, she eventually had to answer, “I said I don’t know anything. Keeper Marethari mentioned it once and even then, who knows whether there really is one. Maybe it’s something lost in time too.”

“If there’s even a slightest chance, we need to find it,” Hawke muttered, mostly to herself. She had already turned her attention away from Merrill. She tapped her thighs, lost in her own thoughts.

Fenris watched Hawke, waiting for her proverbial click. Just as he was about to cough to get her attention, she turned around with her eyes alight.

“We need to track down this ritual or whatever it is and I know just where to begin our search!” Hawke said triumphantly.

Fenris raised his eyebrows quizzically. Hawke nodded her head several times, trying to get Fenris to guess. He crossed his arms. She rolled her eyes in frustration, “The Black Emporium!”

The others had quieted down and had caught the last part of their conversation. Varric asked, “What about the Black Emporium now?”

Hawke was already making ready to leave. Fenris grabbed Merrill and said to her, “You’re coming along. You know more about this than any of us right now.” She just nodded grimly, grabbing her staff.

The others were left confused as the three of them dashed out of the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm having a bit of a writer's block with a particular bit of the story which is why I've been reluctant to post the new chapters. I'm writing Chapter 7 right now but I want to have a few chapters as a buffer, so that I can still periodically post new stuff for you guys! But anyway, that was Chapter 4! Chapter 5 might be out in a week or two.... But as I slowly work through Chapter 7, it's making me nervous that I'm not going to be able to update as fast. :( Hope you guys are still enjoying this. Also, I'm shamelessly plugging my Tumblr here: http://ohgeelato.tumblr.com. Come find me and talk to me or smth, idk.


	5. Tension

Fenris didn’t like the Black Emporium. The air in that small, underground store always felt very heavy with magic, like a blanket had been thrown over the store, muffling everything within. Xenon the Antiquarian, looking as shriveled as a prune, did not help matters, especially when he droned on and on in that dry, wheezing voice of his. Fenris could deal with the stoic golem and the unnervingly silent urchin but he wished he could shut Xenon up.

“The Spirits….of….the Fade,” Xenon wheezed out as he pointed with a long, crooked finger at a stack of dusty books in a dark corner of the emporium.

Hawke, Merrill and Fenris began rifling through the stacks, looking for the tome Xenon just said, but the Antiquarian continued rambling on, “The History….of the…..Circle, Tome of…..Lost…Enchantments.” He finally paused for a very long time, so long that Fenris thought for a moment that he had finally, against all odds, kicked the bucket, but then he managed to cough out, “The tome with….the sunburst….symbol.”

They found the first three books with relative ease but without a title to go on, it was difficult to look for the last book. They had to pick up every single book to check the cover, and there were a surprising number of books with a rather similar symbol as the sunburst symbol on the cover. Finally, Fenris found it partly behind a crate, having probably been kicked there by someone a long time ago. The book had no title, only a black leather binding that seemed to be falling apart, and the sunburst symbol that looked like it had been branded onto the leather. It was thick and heavy with yellowed pages, flaking off at the edges. Fenris tucked it into

“PAYMENT,” Xenon bellowed as they made ready to leave.

Hawke rolled her eyes heavenward before drawing out a small pouch. “All sovereigns in there,” she said and handed it to the urchin. The urchin’s eyes grew wide, as he felt the weight of the pouch. They left the Black Emporium to the sound of one of Xenon’s coughing spells.

***

“Varric, silly question, but would you happen to know any apostate mages other than Merrill and I?” Hawke asked, the moment she slid into a chair in Varric’s suite.

“I think we have enough trouble between the two of you for now,” Varric said, uncharacteristically grim.

Hawke sighed and buried her face in her hands.

“Still haven’t found anything?” Fenris asked. It had been almost a month since they took a trip to the Black Emporium in search of anything that could help them find answers. While Xenon the Antiquarian had been helpful in pointing out books that might be of use – for a price, of course – Hawke and Merrill, the two people who had a chance of understanding the books, still haven’t managed to find anything within those books.

“No, and I’m starting to think it’s because we’re simply dealing with something completely unfamiliar. There are huge parts of the books that neither Merrill nor I understand fully,” Hawke said in frustration. She continued, “Maybe if we knew another mage, someone who knew a different type of magic than both of us, they might be able to understand it.”

“The problem is that in the City of Chains, under the Knight-Commander’s control, there are precious few apostates willing to be as open as you,” Fenris said, not without a hint of bitterness in his voice. He tapped his mug of ale on the table absently, not thinking about anything in particular, when a stray idea came to mind. “I can’t believe we didn’t think about this before, but what about Keeper Marethari?” Fenris asked.

Hawke and Varric stared at him for a moment. Hawke slapped her forehead, “Oh right, I forgot. You were busy sequestering yourself in your mansion and I guess we all just forgot to tell you. Uh, well, you see, a while ago, there was an incident with Merrill’s mirror and it turned out the Keeper let herself be possessed by a demon to save Merrill, and so we had to kill her.”

“Then we had to kill the entire clan because they thought we murdered their Keeper,” Varric added.

“Which we actually did. But only because she had a demon in her,” Hawke finished the story.

“And none of you thought to let me know about this?” Fenris asked, completely in disbelief.

“Well, you never really liked Merrill anyway, and then this thing with Anders happened and it just slipped my mind, I guess,” Hawke said.

Fenris bit off his sharp retort. He had no idea that they thought him that cold and unfeeling that they wouldn’t bother to let him know about the extermination of an entire Dalish clan. He would not deny that he didn’t care much for the blood mage or the Dalish clan she came from, but he felt that he certainly spent enough time with them that he should be informed of such things.

“So we’re back to square one,” he finally said, going back to staring into his drink.

Hawke sighed, reminded again of why she was there in the first place. “I didn’t particularly want to do this, but I was thinking maybe it’s time I got reacquainted with my cousin,” she said.

“Your cousin?” Varric asked.

She sighed again, exaggeratedly this time. “My cousin Solona Amell. You might have heard of her.”

“Solona Amell? _The_ Solona Amell? The Hero of Ferelden, _that_ Solona Amell?” Varric asked, his eyes almost comically wide.

“Yes, that Solona Amell,” Hawke said, propping her elbows on the table and resting her face in her hands.

“I can’t believe I’m only finding this out now. Why didn’t you tell us before, Hawke?” Varric asked.

“I don’t even really know her, Varric. She was born way before me and was already in the Circle when I first learned of her existence. We might be related by blood, sort of, but she’s just a name in a story to me too,” Hawke explained. She pursed her lips then continued, “But I was hoping, since we _are_ related, she might be open to helping me. She’s the Warden-Commander of the Ferelden Grey Warden now, you know, and she probably would know more about these things.”

“Then you should write to her immediately. She is our best chance right now,” Fenris said.

Hawke scrunched her nose. “I am being such a child about this right now, but…okay, fine. I’ll write the letter now. Varric, give me your quill and some parchment. You’ll have to proofread what I write before I send it, okay?”

Varric produced the quill and parchment from his jacket, “Here you go, m’lady.”

Hawke laughed, “You actually seriously just walk around with parchment and quill, don’t you?”

“Obviously,” Varric said, giving Hawke a weird look, before chuckling himself.

Their easy banter and humour grated on Fenris’ nerves. For the past month, he hadn’t been able to focus much on anything, feeling jumpy and lashing out at anything that moved. The fact that he couldn’t help much made him feel useless and agitated. He wanted to be _doing_ something. He wanted substantial results. He wanted something more tangible than just books and words and letters.

He needed to work out his frustration. He got up to leave, “Let me know when you find something else, Hawke. Varric, thanks for the drink.”

The two bade him farewell and Fenris headed over to the Viscount’s Keep. He ignored all the diplomats and nobles at the keep wasting their time waiting to be granted an audience with Knight-Commander Meredith. Now that the Viscount was gone, Meredith was the one in charge of Kirkwall and even though she stayed in the Gallows, protocol still required that whoever wanting an audience with her go through the seneschal at the keep first. Fenris had been unamused when he learned Seneschal Bran was still alive after the incident with the Qunari.

He went to the barracks to look for Donnic and found the guardsman looking at the roster. When Donnic saw Fenris, the guardsman broke into a smile, “Fenris! I haven’t seen you around in a while. Not since our last diamondback game, I suppose.” He clapped Fenris on his back, prudently avoiding the greatsword. “What brings you here, my friend?”

“I wanted to practice on some of the training dummies here, if you don’t mind,” Fenris requested politely. Even though he considered Donnic a friend, there were still times when he felt a distance between them. He thinks it’s because they haven’t fought by each other’s side in a life-or-death situation before. That sort of thing tends to bond you to someone in a way nothing else can. That’s the kind of bond he shared with Hawke and her other companions; Donnic’s wife, Aveline, included.

“Of course. This way,” Donnic said, still smiling. He gestured for Fenris to follow him, and he led him to their training yard.

There were some guards training and Fenris saw Aveline supervising them. Donnic waved at her, “Captain, Fenris is here.” Aveline looked over, saw Donnic and Fenris, issued some order at the training guards and came over to them.

“Hello, Fenris,” she greeted him warmly.

“Hello, Aveline. I hope you don’t mind if I were to use your training yard today,” Fenris said.

Aveline looked at her training guards again. “I hope you weren’t thinking of fighting with my guards. I need them to actually be able to do their patrols tonight,” she said.

“He just wanted to use the training dummies, lov- I mean, Captain,” Donnic said, blushing slightly at his slip of tongue.

A small smile ghosted past Aveline’s face. “The training dummies are over there,” she pointed to the other end of the training yard. “Don’t use up all of them, Fenris,” she said, as a friendly reminder.

He nodded and left the two guards to themselves. Out of all the people he considered his friends in the world, those two were perhaps the most level-headed and stable people in his life. He’s grateful for that sort of stability and sanity and he can’t find it in himself to bear them any grudge for having found their happiness relatively easily.

For the next couple of hours or so, he hacked away at the training dummies, working out all his pent-up frustration. He remembered Aveline’s warning though and tried to be as prudent as he possibly can, only switching to a new training dummy when the one he was currently hacking at was more flying hay and whittled-down stick than a dummy.

Only when his arms started to feel like dead weights did he stop. He carefully dropped his sword with a clatter and slumped onto the ground himself. He sat there for a while, panting heavily and trying to muster up the strength to get back up.

Donnic came over and offered Fenris his hand. He accepted it gratefully and scrambled to his feet.

“Feeling better?” Donnic asked.

Fenris grunted in reply. He felt sore. Which was something other than frustration.

Donnic looked like he wanted to say something else, but instead he just offered to walk back to Fenris’ mansion with him.

Along the way, they chatted about inane things, carefully avoiding land mines of conversation.

At his front door, Donnic finally spoke his mind.

“Aveline worries about you,” he said.

Fenris was not surprised. Aveline had a tendency to mother hen everyone, even if she tried her best to hide it. But he was certain she wasn’t the only one.

“She doesn’t have to and neither do you,” Fenris said.

Donnic coughed, slightly embarrassed to have been called out. “It’s just you’ve been acting weird ever since… ever since Anders-”

“Good night, Donnic. Thank you for the company,” Fenris stopped him from saying his next words. He didn’t want to talk about it with Donnic. He didn’t want to talk about it period. He knew he was being painfully obvious about how much Anders’ Tranquility was affecting him, but he would rather if everyone went on pretending to be oblivious to it.

Donnic was startled by the interruption but quickly regained his composure. He smiled ruefully, “You’re welcome, Fenris. Take care.”

The elf didn’t wait to see Donnic off. Today had been a trying day.


	6. Confrontation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, another chapter! :D 
> 
> Here's the link to the Fenders playlist I made to sort of go with this fic. And you can also find me on Tumblr as ohgeelato. :)
> 
> Enjoy the chapter!

A week went by with no news from anyone about Anders.

It was barely daybreak when Fenris was jolted awake by the sound of pounding on his door. He instinctively grabbed his sword before he realized that if someone wanted to attack him, they probably would not herald their own arrival like that.

Just in case though, he brought his sword down with him. Turns out he had nothing to worry about because it was Hawke who greeted him at the door.

“You’re awake!” Hawke said, sounding surprised, as if she hadn’t been the one who was pounding on the door.

“You woke me,” Fenris said bluntly. It had taken him a while to fall asleep last night, so he was already feeling grouchy to begin with.

“Yes, well, for some reason which you won’t tell me, you seem to care greatly about what’s going on with the…” she lowered her voice, “…Anders situation.” She paused, evidently waiting for a response.

Fenris just stared impassively at her. He wasn’t going to fall for Hawke’s wheedling so easily.

She frowned before continuing, “I know Varric knows something but he won’t tell me what it is either. I’ll figure it out, Fenris, just you wait.”

If someone were to ask him later why he did what he did, Fenris would not be able to explain himself, but something in him snapped just then.

“Why don’t you stop trying to figure me out, Hawke, and just fix Anders?” Fenris demanded angrily.

“Wha- I am trying,” Hawke started to defend herself but Fenris interrupted her.

“You’re not doing anything! All you do is go around, still pretending everything is fine and making your little jokes and drinking yourself to oblivion at The Hanged Man!”

“Isn’t that really hypocritical coming from you? You drink yourself to-”

“Do you just dismiss your friends that easily? I guess we really are disposable to you after all,” Fenris said bitterly. He turned to close the door, but was stopped by Hawke’s hand on the door.

“Don’t,” she said coldly. All trace of humor was gone from her face.

She continued, “Don’t you dare accuse me of thinking people are disposable. For some reason, you seem to be really affected by what happened to Anders, but stop thinking that you’re the only one who’s shaken by this,” Hawke said tightly. Fenris had never seen the easygoing mage like this before. She seemed wound up, like she was an arrow pulled taut on a bow, ready to unleash her full power and rage but at the same time, completely in control. He understood better now why she, an apostate mage from Ferelden, had managed to become the Champion of Kirkwall.

She went on, her voice threateningly low, “You’re free to brood all you want, Fenris, we’ve all been more than understanding. But we’re all also dealing with this in our own ways. Not all of us feel like brooding every time something doesn’t go our way. Not every goddamn thing revolves around _you_ and how _you_ feel.”

Fenris flinched, as if her words were physically being hurled at him. But he kept silent and Hawke continued with her diatribe.

“You want to know how much I fucking care? I’ve been up most nights struggling to decipher the tomes we found at the Black Emporium and bribing every idiot who claim they know something. I’ve been to the Gallows so often to visit Anders that it sometimes feels like I’m living there too. I even wrote to Solona, and now I have to somehow explain to her how I’m probably the only family she has left, other than Gamlen, and that isn’t something I ever planned on doing, and I just _don’t know_ what else you want from me,” Hawke said, her voice finally cracking at her last words.

For just the briefest of moments, Fenris saw how vulnerable Hawke was. The only other time he had seen her like that was when Leandra had died. To be honest, he had been surprised at how fast Hawke bounced back from Leandra’s death. About a week after Leandra’s death, Hawke had gone back to running errands around the city and Wicked Grace nights at The Hanged Man. But she never spoke about Leandra again. And now Fenris finally understood.

He hung his head. “I’m… I’m sorry,” he said, not able to look Hawke in the eye. He was ashamed at how he had acted so foolishly and selfishly.

Hawke was quiet for a moment, but then she clapped him on his back. Surprised, he looked up. Hawke still looked grim but she kept her hand on his back, as a sort of comforting gesture.

It was odd for Fenris to see her so serious, but he tentatively said, “I’m sure you were here for a reason?”

She removed her hand from his back and sighed, “Yeah. I received Solona’s reply today.”

“And?”

“She didn’t actually say much. Mostly she just said she’ll come to Kirkwall,” Hawke said.

“What? So she must know something,” Fenris said, feeling hopeful for the first time in a long while.

“I guess so,” Hawke shrugged, some of her usual blasé attitude coming back. “She said she’ll arrive one week after her letter, so I thought I’d come by and let you know.”

“That’s…unusually fast,” Fenris commented.

“She _is_ the Hero of Ferelden. Most Fereldans would probably drop everything to accommodate her wishes,” Hawke said, completely missing the parallels between Solona’s fame and influence in Ferelden with her own in Kirkwall.

With her message delivered, Hawke turned to leave. But Fenris suddenly remembered something she said.

“Wait,” he called out. Hawke looked back expectantly.

“You said you visit Anders often. Is he…is he okay?” Fenris asked.

She raised an eyebrow, “He’s Tranquil. He’s far from okay.”

***

After Hawke’s confrontation with him the other day, Fenris finally plucked up the courage to venture to the Gallows. Up till now he hadn’t been able to, because he didn’t know how he would react to seeing Anders Tranquil again.

But he had to see Anders. To see if there’s anything left of the man he used to be.

He walked around the Gallows for a bit, unsure of how to find Anders. He wanted to avoid talking to any Templars, if he can. For the first time, he noticed that there was an unsettling amount of Tranquil in the courtyard, selling wares or simply running errands. He scanned their faces, looking for Anders.

Anders was nowhere to be found. Fenris growled in frustration and ran his hand through his hair. He looked around for a familiar Templar he could talk to; maybe Carver. But no such luck again. The only familiar face he saw in the courtyard was Cullen, and so with great reluctance, he approached the Knight-Captain.

Cullen saw him coming from a long way off and greeted him when he came near.

“Good morning, serah. Is there anything I can do for you today?” Cullen said politely.

“I was looking for Anders,” Fenris asked. He didn’t know what to think of Cullen. He was Meredith’s right-hand man and certainly seems completely devout to the cause – a cause Fenris used to support whole-heartedly until his belief was shaken by what happened to Anders. Fenris wanted to blame him but Cullen seemed too guileless and honorable to do such a thing. For now, Fenris held his judgement of the Knight-Captain.

“Anders is now one of the quartermasters in the Gallows. He is often busy, but I will check to see if he is available for visitors right now,” Cullen offered, still gracious as ever but equally as distant.

“Thank you,” Fenris replied.

Cullen nodded in acknowledgement and walked off into the inner courtyard of the Gallows. Fenris stood there waiting, unsure how long Cullen would take and not wanting to risk missing his return.

A short while later, Cullen returned with Anders in tow.

Fenris stiffened. It was the most bizarre thing for him to see Anders following behind Cullen so meekly. On more than one occasion, Anders used to very vocally talk about how little he cared for Knight-Captain Cullen. Fenris can even almost imagine Anders’ sneer as he says Cullen’s full title.

And that’s when he saw the sunburst symbol on his forehead and the faraway look in Anders’ eyes. It felt so wrong to see complete apathy in those eyes that used to blaze with such passion. For a moment, Fenris considered just bolting out of the Gallows.

Instead he took a deep breath and steeled himself.

“Anders is free for a while today, serah,” Cullen said, gesturing at the Tranquil mage.

“Thank you,” Fenris said, waiting for the Templar to go away. Cullen lingered and Fenris raised his eyebrows.

“Whenever you are free, I would like to speak to you about something,” Cullen said mysteriously. Fenris frowned but nodded. The Knight-Captain smiled faintly at him and then went back to his usual post, his armour clanking the entire way.

Anders had kept quiet the entire time. Even with Cullen gone, he was still silent, but he was at least regarding Fenris. There was no spark of recognition, but Fenris remembered that Anders still knew who he was.

“Hello, Anders,” Fenris said tentatively.

“Hello, Fenris,” Anders intoned.

Fenris inhaled deeply again. “How are you?”

“I am fine, thank you for your concern.”

Fenris wanted to scream. Instead he asked, “How is it like, living in the Gallows?”

“I am taken care of well in the Gallows. I am given tasks to do and in return I am clothed and fed,” Anders said, in that creepily serene way of the Tranquil.

There was a pause as Fenris stopped to think how the old Anders would have raged against this, raged against the Gallows and raged against being kept essentially as a prisoner and then Fenris forced himself to smile and said, “I am glad you are happy.”

“I am neither happy nor unhappy, but I am fine,” Anders corrected him mildly.

Fenris looked at the blank face of the man he loved and he swore he’d rip out the heart of Knight-Commander Meredith.


	7. Protector

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags have been updated, please check.

Despite feeling like throwing himself off the nearest cliff the last time he went to see Anders, Fenris decided to make it a point to visit Anders every day. It felt too much like abandoning the mage if he just stopped keeping in touch with him.

And sometimes, Fenris just liked to think that there were occasional glimpses of the real Anders behind the curtain of Tranquility. He liked to think Anders even looked forward to his visits.

He bumped into Hawke on one of the days actually. Hawke must have kept track of when Anders is free for visits too.

If she was surprised, she hid it well. Fenris, on the other hand, did not hide his surprise well.

“Hawke!” he exclaimed, taking a step back. She cocked her head, an amused smile playing on her lips.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, still smiling.

Fenris tried to think of a reasonable excuse but realized he had taken too long to think and if he said anything other than the truth at this point, no one would believe him, least of all Hawke. So he sighed and conceded the truth.

“I’m here to visit Anders.”

Hawke’s smile became a smirk, “Me too, actually. Why don’t we go together? I’m sure Anders would be delighted to have so many visitors today.”

“He doesn’t feel anything,” Fenris muttered under his breath as he followed Hawke’s lead.

If Hawke heard him, she pretended she didn’t very well.

Fenris had gotten used to Anders’ non-reaction whenever he visited. Anders would greet him, but it was the kind of greeting one normally reserved for walking pass acquaintances in a crowded place; brief and impersonal.

Anders greeted Hawke the same way, and a part of Fenris took solace in that fact.

“What have you been up to, Anders?” Hawke asked with a big grin, clapping his back. She was acting completely normal, as if Anders was still the same person before being made Tranquil.

“I have been taking care of the stockroom in the Circle,” Anders answered politely, providing only the necessary information and revealing nothing else.

“Yes, yes, same as usual, same as always,” Hawke rambled on, but she slung her arms around Anders. She lowered her voice and whispered conspiratorially, “Are Meredith and Orsino behaving and being nice to each other?”

“Knight-Commander Meredith and First Enchanter Orsino have argued and fought over various issues no less than eleven times since your last visit, Hawke. Currently, Knight-Commander Meredith has sequestered herself in her office for two days,” Anders replied methodically in a clear voice, betraying Hawke’s whisper.

Fenris was surprised that Anders would give away such sensitive information to Hawke, who arguably had the most to benefit from such information.

Hawke was nodding, as if she was processing the information. Then she whipped her head up to look at Anders so quickly that it took Fenris aback for a moment. “Well, since you have another visitor today, I’ll take my leave now. I’ll be back in a couple of days. Take care, Anders,” Hawke said, smiling at Anders. To Fenris, she threw another knowing smirk before leaving.

If Fenris was of the paranoid type, he would think Hawke had figured it out.

Fenris was actually of the paranoid type.

“Hawke!” he called after her, feeling incredibly self-conscious after his realization.

“Hello, Fenris,” Anders intoned, turning to face the elf, after Hawke left.

Fenris froze, like a deer caught in the cross-sight of a hunter. He slowly turned to face Anders too. He smiled nervously, shifting from one foot to another.

“Are the Templars treating you well?” Fenris asked, remembering the vague mentions Anders had made about Templar abuse before…. before he was made Tranquil. He had never believed them before, dismissing them as the over-exaggerations of a madman and an abomination no less, but he wasn’t so sure now. Just in case, he made it a point to ask.

“The Templars generally avoid me,” Anders said.

Anders had answered that every time Fenris had asked him that, which he found suspicious. Why were the Templars avoiding him? At first he had though that Carver had something to do with it, but the younger Hawke was not someone who wielded much influence in the Templar Order. So why else were the Templars avoiding the infamous Darktown apostate, friend of the Champion who had evaded capture for years?

Even if the Templars were not abusive as Anders alluded to, surely they would still interact with him somehow?

Or maybe the Templars were just as uncomfortable as everyone else around the Tranquil.

“Do the Templars avoid the other Tranquils as well?” Fenris asked, his curiousity piqued.

Anders thought about it for a moment, then replied, “Not that I’m aware of.”

Surprised, Fenris blurted out, “They only avoid you?”

Anders nodded, “It would seem so.”

While it was an odd thing indeed, a part of Fenris was relieved, because it meant that Anders was safe. Or as safe as he could be. Sometimes prison was the safest place one could be, Fenris reasoned.

“At least you’re safe,” Fenris voiced out.

Anders merely tilted his head in acknowledgement of what Fenris said. The elf had realized it was easier to express what was truly on his mind to a Tranquil Anders than the old Anders because there was no fear of being judged, rejected, or worse, betrayed. And admittedly, it was nice to not have to hear the mage go on his spiel about mage rights incessantly. Regardless of whatever Fenris feels towards Anders, he had to grit his teeth whenever Anders used to bring up the topic of mage’s rights.

For a while, Fenris rambled on about inane things in his life; the grocer he usually went to just gave birth a new son, Isabela still couldn’t guess the colour of his underwear and Merrill got mugged for the first time the other day and came positively skipping into The Hanged Man to tell them the ‘great news’. Anders was a great listener, he nodded and mm-ed and aah-ed at all the right time. It was weird, but it was better than nothing.

Finally, he saw Cullen approaching them. “I think we’ve run out of time,” Fenris said, getting up from the steps where they had sat down to talk. He dusted imaginary dirt off his armour and leggings. Anders rose to his feet as well.

“I will see you soon, Fenris,” Anders said.

Fenris waved at Anders, who turned to leave.

“Serah Fenris,” Cullen called, diverting Fenris’ attention from Anders.

“Yes, I know it is time to take my leave,” Fenris said, irritated that the Knight-Captain felt like he needed to come over to remind him of such a trivial matter.

“Ah, no, that’s not why I came over. I wondered if you remember what I said to you the other day,” Cullen said, actually looking embarrassed.

Fenris had to think quite a bit before he remembered Cullen had wanted to talk to him privately. In the midst of his barrage of emotions upon visiting Anders for the first time, he had completely forgotten about what Cullen had said.

“Sorry,” Fenris replied almost sheepishly, “I did forget. But I am free to talk right now, if that suits you?”

“Yes, now would be a good time,” Cullen said. He gestured down the hallway of The Gallows, “If you would please follow me to my office, please?”

Cullen’s office was small, barely enough space for a small bookcase, two chairs and a table which was barely big enough for a man of Cullen’s size in armour. He hunkered down on his chair and beckoned Fenris to do the same to the other chair.

Fenris sat down and waited for Cullen to speak. Instead there was a long silence, where Cullen seemed to be working up his nerves to say something. He finally sighed. Fenris’ patience was running out.

“Yes?” he asked, just wanting to know what was this seemingly great secret of Cullen’s.

“What is your relationship with Anders?” Cullen asked, prompted to say something by Fenris’ question.

“We are just…friends. We…used to socialize within the same circle of people,” Fenris answered evasively, half-truths the best he could come up with when put on the spot.

“Oh,” Cullen said, rubbing his hand over his face.

“Is there a point to all this?” Fenris asked, straightforward as usual, when it comes to everyone else but himself.

“I felt like I should tell someone who is close to Anders the truth,” Cullen said, as vague a sentence as any.

“And what is the truth?” Fenris leaned forward.

Cullen hesitated, then said, “As long as I am here, you need not worry about Anders. I will keep him safe.”

Things started to click in Fenris’ head. Anders’ exceptionally good treatment in the Circle, the Templars mostly leaving him alone, Cullen’s awkwardness... it all started to make sense. There was still a lingering question though.

“Why are you doing this?”

Cullen leaned heavily in his chair, trying to put as much distance between himself and Fenris as possible. He sighed, “Did you know that I used to be assigned in the Ferelden Circle? When I first arrived, Anders was already notorious in the Circle. I think he had ran away three times by then? Even then he was lucky; spirit healers are so rare that they’re not usually punished very harshly. But there was usually at least one Templar assigned to watch after him specifically at any given time, just to be safe, you understand.”

The Templar paused, looking for the right way to continue his story. “Sometimes I would get assigned to watch over Anders. At first I was wary of him as I had been warned about him. But he was like no other mage I had ever met – no, he was unlike any _person_ I’d ever met.”

Fenris balled his fist. He had a sinking feeling he knew where this story was going.

“He was an outrageous flirt and because I seldom wore my helmet, he seemed to take extra pleasure in making me uncomfortable when I was on duty, probably because he can see my reaction,” Cullen reminisced with a half-grimace and, Fenris noted, a half-smile.

Cullen hesitated again, “And I must admit that after a while, he grew on me. Despite all his escape attempts, he seemed harmless. But after his last escape attempt, the Knight-Commander there put him in solitary confinement.” This time the pause was on purpose. “For a year.”

Fenris jerked involuntarily and hit his leg against the table. Solitary confinement. He himself had been put into solitary confinement before as punishment, because Danarius would never let any of his other lowly slaves near his prized pet. Fenris hated that particular punishment; being left alone for long periods of time with nothing but your own thoughts to occupy yourself…after a while, Fenris would have done anything to escape from his own wandering, traitorous and terrifying thoughts. And he had never been put into solitary confinement for more than a month.

He’s beginning to understand Anders more.

Cullen continued his story, “When Anders was in solitary confinement, I was still occasionally assigned to guard his cell. The first few weeks, he yelled and shouted every day. And then he just started talking incessantly, about anything. Just out loud. I think he just wanted to keep the silence at bay. It was…it was difficult to listen to him but not being able to talk to him. We were all ordered to not talk to him, you see. I had my orders. But then he stopped talking completely. He stopped asking for anything. He just…stopped.”

Cullen clenched his teeth and took a deep breath. “At first we thought he had died. But a quick look into the cell confirmed that he was still alive. He just wasn’t talking anymore.”

“What does this have to do with you?” Fenris interrupted Cullen for the first time. He thought he knew what Cullen was going to say, but he also desperately wanted to be wrong.

“A few months into his solitary confinement, Anders started to talk again. But this time he was begging. For someone, anyone, to talk to him.” Cullen closed his eyes tight. “After a while, I caved. I had grown to…love him, and I couldn’t stand to listen to him like that.”

“What did you do?” Fenris demanded, getting angry. He knew, he knew, he _knew_.

“I went to his comfort. I talked to him, let him know I was real, that he was real. And then he started begging again, this time for….contact. I tried to resist, but he just kept on begging me. So I mounted him. I made love to him. I started to go into his cell every time I was posted to his cell. I was the only thing keeping him from tipping into complete insanity. Then Uldred, one of the other mages, set demons loose in the Tower. I barely managed to get Anders out of the Tower, but I was trapped. I had no idea what happened to him after that, but I hoped he had gotten away. When I saw him here in Kirkwall, free, I was so glad. But then he was caught again. And this time, I couldn’t do anything to stop him from getting made Tranquil.” Cullen buried his head in his hands. “The best I can do now is to make sure he’s never hurt again.” He said that with a tone of finality that signaled the end of his story.

Fenris was silent. He had seen this coming, but to actually hear it hurt more than he had imagined. Perhaps Cullen did not realize it himself, but he was a monster, just like the other Templars, only he had disguised himself as Anders’ savior. Fenris wanted to talk to Anders, the real Anders, so badly right now, and tell him that he was sorry he ever doubted the monstrosities that had happened to the mage in the Circle. To be reduced to begging for your own humiliation and punishment to maintain some semblance of sanity….  Fenris was all too acutely aware of what that felt like.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry that this took so long. I've been busy with stuff and then Dragon Age Inquisition came out and that took all of my time and now I'm in the full swing of moving so I'm going to be very very busy for the next month or so. So I just wanted to say that this is NOT abandoned, but the next chapter might take a while again. I am so so sorry again. :(


	8. Impressions

“She’s here!” Isabela crowed as she burst into Varric’s suite.

“Who’s here?” Aveline asked. She tried to inject irritation into her voice, but it mostly came off as frustrated affection.

Isabela rolled her eyes; she obviously had caught Aveline’s attempt at goading her.

“The _Hero of Ferelden_ is here!” Isabela clarified, looking unexpectedly excited.

“What are you so excited for? I never pegged you as someone who got enamoured by heroes and their legendary exploits, Rivaini. Always thought you were smitten enough by your own legend,” Varric teased.

“Oh, I’m definitely enamoured by her exploits, if you get what I mean,” Isabela raised an eyebrow and gave Varric a smirk, one that Varric returned.

“Are you sure it’s her?” Hawke asked.

“Of course I’m sure. Nothing goes on in those docks that I don’t know about,” Isabela sounded slightly offended.

“We should meet with her immediately,” Fenris said, hope blooming in his chest. Finally, a new lead. If Hawke could not find anything, maybe this Hero of Ferelden had some answers. He was also curious about this mage. He’d heard some stories about her, mostly from Varric. While on the run from Danarius, Fenris didn’t exactly have a lot of time to be concerned about anyone else but his own safety. He wanted to know just what kind of mage could have united so many different races throughout Ferelden, defeated an Archdemon and became the Warden-Commander of Ferelden.

Hawke looked nervous; her biting on her cheeks was a giveaway. She nudged Varric and whispered something to him. The dwarf rolled his eyes affectionately. He called one of his messengers in and gave him instructions to guide the Hero of Ferelden to The Hanged Man. Might as well get her acquainted with the local hotspots right away, Varric said out loud, more for the benefit of the everyone else than the messenger boy.

The messenger nodded and quietly left the room.

“Well, that shouldn’t take long. Harper is one of my fastest messengers,” Varric reassured the room. The room broke out into conversation, mostly about the Hero of Ferelden. Aveline was telling Varric and Sebastian about a red-haired lay sister she used to know in Lothering who eventually joined the Hero of Ferelden in defeating the Archdemon. Isabela was mock-whispering something to Merrill, whose cheeks were flushed a very dark red. Hawke was noticeably not partaking in any of the conversation, instead choosing to stare forlornly into her mug of shitty ale.

“I didn’t realize Corff’s ale was so interesting,” Fenris said to Hawke. After their confrontation at Fenris’ mansion a while ago, Fenris had been more sensitive to Hawke’s behaviour. There was a lot more the leader of their ragtag band was hiding underneath her merry exterior, he’d realized.

“I think there’s a rat’s tail in this one actually,” Hawke squinted at the ale, attempting a half-hearted joke.

Fenris glanced into the mug. Murky, as usual, but no evidence of any rat’s tail. “And you like to call me broody,” Fenris joked.

Hawke raised her eyebrows, “Was that a jibe at me? Are you making a joke? I haven’t heard you do that in….well, probably since what happened to Anders.”

“Someone made me realize life goes on,” Fenris half-smirked at her. Hawke chuckled. She was loosening up. Fenris decided to push it further.

“Why are you so reluctant to meet your cousin? Isn’t she family?” Fenris asked.

“Family I’ve never met,” Hawke groused.

“But she is still family,” Fenris insisted.

“…Yeah,” Hawke conceded.

“So what is the problem?”

Hawke grew pensive, staring into her murky mug of ale again. Fenris was about to give up, thinking that he had pushed her too far out of her comfort zone when she spoke again.

“We’re both mages, Fenris,” Hawke said, some panic creeping into her voice.

Fenris looked at her, confused by her obvious statement.

“I’ve lived my whole life free, Fenris. And she never had that. She was put into the Circle the moment her magic manifested. What if she hates me for having had that freedom?” Hawke blurted.

He didn’t quite know what to say. He hadn’t been expecting that, of all things. Lately, he’s just been struck by the unexpected. He struggled to find the right words to comfort her, “You are all that’s left of her family as well. Surely she is not so petty?”

“I don’t know,” Hawke admitted. “I don’t know anything about her.”

Fenris kept quiet. This was not what he was good at. How does he comfort someone else when he hasn’t even figured it out for himself? But Hawke seemed to enjoy the sense of solidarity anyway. She perked up a little, “Well, I guess I won’t know till I meet her, right?”

“Yes, of course,” Fenris agreed.

Just then the messenger boy rushed back into the suite. “She’s here,” he whispered. Fenris couldn’t tell whether the boy whispered that in fear or in awe.

When Fenris saw the woman who strolled into Varric’s suite behind the boy, he understood better why the boy sounded so stricken.

From the stories Fenris had heard, Solona Amell was a formidable woman, and she definitely looked the part.

She was tall, just like Hawke. She had long, brunette hair which she had pulled back in a loose ponytail. Fenris knew she was a mage – the burgundy staff strapped tightly to her back helped – but instead of wearing those long, flowy robes that most mages wear, she wore sensible leather armour. Her leathers were dyed black, which would have given most people a harsh, severe look, but Fenris thought it suited Solona Amell very well. Fenris thought he spotted a dagger tucked on her hips, and immediately grew suspicious. All the mages he knew who had a dagger used them for one reason: blood magic.

Solona strode up to Hawke. She was almost the same height as Hawke, falling just slightly short of her. “Are you Hawke? The Champion of Kirkwall?” she asked, her voice clear and ringing. This was clearly someone used to giving commands.

Hawke seemed to straighten her back, to make herself taller. “Yes, I’m Hawke. And you must be Solona Amell.”

Solona looked at Hawke for a long moment without replying. Then she grinned, and it changed the vibe of her entire presence. Fenris could feel the palpable relief going through the room, as if everyone had been on a string ready to snap, and now it had been relaxed. Fenris, however, was still wary of her and her dagger.

“Cousin! I finally get to meet you!” Solona exclaimed, going in for the hug.

Hawke, so shocked by the sudden change that she almost instinctively backed up and hit the table. There was no avoiding the hug. Solona wrapped Hawke up in her arms. After a split second of stunned silence, Hawke gave in and hugged Solona too.

“I love family reunions,” Varric leaned in and whispered to Fenris. The elf looked over, about to say something hopefully comforting about what happened with Bartrand, thinking that Varric was reminded of his falling out with his brother. Instead, he saw Varric gleefully writing at lightning speed on a parchment. The dwarf saw Fenris’ incredulous look and shrugged his shoulders, “What? The Hero of Ferelden and The Champion of Kirkwall locked in a hug for a family reunion? My readers will eat this up. This is pure gold!” He went back to scribbling furiously on his parchment.

Solona finally broke the hug. She gestured at the messenger boy, who ran back out.

“Where did you send my boy?” Varric asked, stopping midway down his parchment.

“Just to get a companion of mine,” Solona said dismissively. She sat down at the table, at the spot where Anders used to sit. She looked at everyone else.

“Nice to meet you all. I’m Solona Amell,” she said.

“Oh, I know who you are,” Isabela said. Solona looked over at her and her eyes widened.

“Isabela? Is that you? By the Maker, you’ve changed so much!” Solona gasped. She went in for another hug, one that Isabela was more than happy to reciprocate.

“She’s a hugger, hmm,” Varric muttered to himself as he continued writing.

Just as Solona and Isabela broke the hug, the messenger boy came back in, this time with a dark-haired man.

“Nathaniel got sidetracked out in the bars,” Solona said, rolling her eyes fondly at the man. The man, to his credit, did not react as if he was embarrassed.

“This is Nathaniel Howe. He is a fellow Grey Warden,” Solona introduced the man. Fenris just noticed that he had a longbow and a quiver of arrows strapped securely to his back.

Aveline stood up, “Nathaniel Howe? As in the son of Arl Rendon Howe? The traitorous scum?”

The man, Nathaniel, clenched his jaw. Even Solona sighed.

“My father did terrible things, but I am not him,” Nathaniel gritted out.

Aveline faltered. She knew what it was like to be disappointed in your own father. She nodded and kept quiet.

“Um,” Hawke, ready to disperse any awkward situation, said, “so let me introduce some of my friends.”

Solona stared at Fenris. “You’ve got lyrium under your tattoos,” she pointed out.

“Yes, I do,” Fenris agreed dryly.

“Who would do that?”

“My previous master, a Tevinter magister, thought it would be a fun experiment to carve out chunks of my flesh and replace them with lyrium and see whether I could survive; and if I did, what I would be capable of,” Fenris said.

Solona looked a bit stunned. “Well, Hawke certainly keeps interesting people in her company,” she finally said.

“Interesting is one way to put it,” Hawke muttered loudly enough for everyone to hear.

Solona ignored that comment and finally sat down. Nathaniel stayed standing rigidly behind her. The Warden-Commander became somber again. “So, you said Anders was alive?”

Everyone else in the room looked at her oddly, except for Nathaniel. “What are you talking about? Of course he’s alive. He’s just Tranquil. You know him?” Hawke asked.

“Of course I know him! He used to be a Grey Warden, recruited personally by me. After the battle at Amaranthine, we couldn’t find his body so we assumed he was killed,” Solona explained. Fenris almost missed this, but he saw Nathaniel’s jaw tighten.

“We knew he was a Grey Warden but I didn’t realize he-” Hawke said but Solona wasn’t done.

“And now you’re saying he’s alive, after abandoning the Wardens, but now he’s Tranquil? How did this happen?” Solona demanded to know. Fenris could see why an entire nation were at this woman’s beck and call.

Hawke chewed on her bottom lip for a bit before saying, “Did you know about Justice?”

“Justice is with Anders too?” Solona exclaimed. Nathaniel, who had barely moved or said anything since he was introduced, blurted out, “What?”

“Well, Justice isn’t really with Anders… Justice kind of is in Anders, I think? Or is Anders now?” Hawke tried to explain the situation but it was clear she wasn’t entirely clear about it either.

“Justice possessed Anders?” Nathaniel asked, his voice low but Fenris was sure he detected an undercurrent of rage in his tone.

“No, from what Anders told me, it was more like he let Justice possessed him.”

Nathaniel looked away and said nothing.

“What happened then? How did he become Tranquil?” Solona asked.

“Anders got caught by the Templars,” Hawke said, gritting her teeth, “They had been after him for years now, especially because of his involvement with the mage underground.”

“Wait, mage underground?” Solona asked confused.

“Yeah, Anders was helping mages in the Circle escape; when he wasn’t running his free clinic or writing those mage rights manifestos of his.”

“What? Are you sure we’re talking about the same Anders? With the blonde ponytail and the cats?”

Now Hawke looked confused too, “Uh, yes?”

“Since when did he start caring about mage rights?”

“Since Justice,” Fenris said.

Solona looked at him and something seemed to click for her, “Are you telling me that after Justice possessed Anders, he became obsessed with mage rights?”

“Yes, exactly, and then the Templars got to him and now he’s Tranquil and we just need some way to make Anders right again,” Hawke said.

Solona folded her arms. The knife tucked into the side of her armor glinted in the low light. She looked at Nathaniel, who gave her a meaningful look in return but said nothing. Then she finally looked back at Hawke.

“I might have a way to reverse the rite of Tranquility,” she said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay. I got distracted by the new Dragon Age game and all the new ships and then real life happened and etc. Well, you know how these things go. Anyway, things are finally moving along.


	9. Uncertainty

               For the first time in months, Fenris felt hope blossoming.

               “How?” Hawke demanded.

               “First of all, I just want to say that I don’t actually have a way to reverse Tranquility,” Solona said, but added, “What I do have is a sound theory about Tranquility. And if I’m right, then it shouldn’t be too difficult to find a way to reverse it.”

               Disappointment crashed into Fenris. But this was still more than they had achieved in months, so he continued to pay attention to the conversation.

               Hawke was grilling the Hero of Ferelden about this theory of hers now, and a lot of it Fenris didn’t quite understand. Looking around the room, he got the feeling most of them didn’t understand what the two of them were talking about either, other than Merrill who was listening to their conversation with rapt attention.

               “Where did you get this information?” Hawke asked, almost in awe of the information she had just received from Solona.

               “I read about it… somewhere,” Solona said, suddenly seeming uncomfortable in her seat.

               Hawke frowned at her. “Where? Merrill and I have been going through some rare tomes for weeks and we couldn’t find anything.” She gestured at the tomes on the table.

               Solona looked through the pile briefly. She seemed mostly disinterested in them until she reached the book without a title. She inhaled sharply.

               “Where did you get this?” she asked Hawke.

               “I got all of them from a store that I frequent,” Hawke said.

               “A _store_?” Solona said in disbelief.

               “It’s a special store, run by a really weird, really old guy,” Hawke replied almost defensively.

               “This is where I got my information from,” Solona said, gripping the book tightly in her hands, “And I did not just get it from a store.” She thought about it for a second before adding, “Though the guy I got it from could arguably be described as really weird and really old.”

               “Um… are you saying we got the book from the same guy?” Hawke asked, looking really confused.

               Solona barked a short laugh but then grew serious, “No, I’m very sure we did not get it from the same guy.”

               “You must be very good, Solona. Hawke and I couldn’t understand a single thing in that book,” Merrill interrupted.

               Solona looked at Merrill thoughtfully before saying, “I had help.”

               Nathaniel pursed his lips and put a hand on Solona’s shoulder, squeezing it a little. It was not a subtle action. Fenris wondered what they were so obviously hiding.

               “What do we need to do?” Fenris asked, caring more about results than anything else right then.

               Solona fidgeted for a bit and said, “We need a way for Anders to touch the Fade.”

               “But that’s impossible, he can’t access the Fade as a Tranquil.”

               “He can’t, but any other mage can. And there are three of us here,” Solona said, “We just need to somehow get to the Fade with Anders.”

               Doubtful faces stared back at her.

               “Look, I’ve done something similar before. It can be done,” Solona insisted.

               Merrill was very suddenly rubbing her face quite hard. Her entire lithe frame started to shake as she hung her head down, trying to hide her face from the rest of the room. It did the exact opposite as everyone turned to look at the sudden display of suppressed emotion.

               “Daisy? What’s wrong?” Varric asked.

               Fenris could see the blood mage trying to get herself under control again. Her body was heaving, as if she was taking deep breaths. He found himself crouching into a fighting position almost instinctively. Fenris had seen enough blood mages summon demons or worse, turn into abominations to ever take his chances with them.

               He only relaxed a little when Merrill finally looked up, her wide green eyes shining with unshed tears. Her lower lip trembled a little but when she spoke it was with a steady voice, “Keeper Marethari would have known how to send someone into the Fade through their dreams. Like with Feynriel.”

               Hawke cursed. Everyone else looked grim. Solona and Nathaniel, of course, merely looked confused.

               “Who is this Keeper Marethari?” Solona asked.

               “She was the Keeper of a Dalish clan that had set up camp just outside Kirkwall years ago. Daisy was her First until she chose to leave the clan,” Varric explained, although he lowered his voice towards the end of his explanation. Merrill clearly still heard him as she turned to look away from everyone else in the room again. She stood up and excused herself. No one tried to stop her.

               When Merrill had left the room, Hawke elaborated on Varric’s story, telling Solona about how they had been forced to kill the entire clan. The two Grey Wardens had looked horrified.

               “We had no choice,” Hawke said, her voice taking on an almost pleading tone. Solona just shook her head and looked away.

               “I want to see Anders,” Solona suddenly said, looking up at Hawke again. “Before we even think about doing anything, I want to see him.”

               Hawke exchanged a look with Varric, and then looked at Fenris. Fenris tipped his head briefly. Hawke turned back to Solona and said, “Okay, I think we can do that. But we’re going to keep your identity a secret for now.”

               Solona shrugged, “Sure, it doesn’t matter to me.”

               Hawke nodded. “Tomorrow then.” She looked at Fenris, “Could you bring them to see Anders tomorrow, Fenris? I’ll go see Meredith, try to distract her from the fact that Anders has yet another visitor. She might get interested this time, especially since it’s a stranger she doesn’t know.”

               Fenris frowned. He didn’t want to be alone with the two Grey Wardens, but he knew he didn’t have a choice. He nodded cautiously, “I can do that.” To Solona and Nathaniel, he said, “Meet me at The Gallows tomorrow just after noon.” He thought for a moment before giving them a warning, “Do not bring attention to yourself.”

               The two Grey Wardens, to their credit, merely nodded grimly.

               The next day, they were waiting dutifully for Fenris at The Gallows. They were standing in the shadows cast by the great slave statues. Solona was staring up at the statues.

               She glanced at Fenris when he approached then turned to look at the statues again.

               “This is where they keep the mages? And they don’t see what’s wrong with it?” she asked bitterly.

               “It was empty, and so they found a use for it. Mages are kept safe here,” Fenris said, almost defensively.

Solona whirled around and stared at Fenris, fury burning in her eyes. “That’s the use they found for a former prison? Look at those statues,” she pointed at them, “Does nobody see how obvious this is?”

               Nathaniel was next to Solona in a flash, putting a hand on her shoulder.

               Fenris took a step back. He did not want to be near an angry Grey Warden, let alone the Hero of Ferelden.

               “I admit they could have been more prudent,” Fenris muttered.

               Solona just stared at him, the fire behind her eyes dimming as she lost the will to be angry.

               “Why are you even here? You sound like you think mages deserve this,” Solona asked.

               Fenris hesitated. How was he supposed to answer that?

               “Not all mages deserve this,” he said, spreading his arms to gesture at The Gallows, and then added, “And certainly not Anders.”

               Solona looked at him contemplatively. “Alright. I want to see Anders now,” she eventually said.

               Fenris nodded, then left to ask for the mage. A while later, Anders was walking up to them.

               “Hero of Ferelden. Nathaniel Howe,” Anders said, nodding at them in acknowledgement. He didn’t even sound surprised to see them in Kirkwall, let alone in The Gallows.

               Solona rushed up to Anders and threw her arms around him. Fenris felt a twinge of irritation but he clamped down the feeling.

               “We thought you were dead,” she cried, her eyes brimming with tears.

               “I’m sorry. It was a necessary ruse to escape the Templars in Vigil’s Keep. I see now I should not have done so. It was terribly inconsiderate of me,” Anders said.

               Solona was staring at the sunburst brand on Anders’ forehead in shock. She reached out to touch it and Anders moved away slightly.

               “Please do not touch my forehead,” he requested mildly.

               “Why?” she asked.

               For the first time since Anders became Tranquil, Fenris saw him look confused. “I’m… I’m not sure… I do not enjoy the sensation of having my forehead touched,” Anders settled on his answer.

               “Anders… I am so sorry,” Nathaniel had come forward and was gripping Anders shoulder.

               “What are you sorry for?”

               “…Never mind, old friend,” Nathaniel said, looking away from Anders and moving away.

               Solona reached up towards Anders and whispered in his ear, “We’re going to fix this, Anders. We are going to fix you. Stay safe. Wait for us.”

               Fenris was surprised when Anders did not say anything in reply to that. Did he understand what had happened to him? Did he understand what they were trying to do?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is kind of a filler chapter, but it is leading somewhere, I promise.


	10. Preparations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was delaying posting this because I was trying to figure out where to go from here and I didn't want to write myself into a corner..... but now that I have figured it out, here's a really short (sort of) filler chapter to lead up to the more exciting parts.

The next few days, the Hero of Ferelden and the Champion of Kirkwall worked feverishly to figure out a way to get Anders to touch the Fade and to make sure that nothing would go wrong during the ritual.

Nathaniel would also disappear for most of the day before quietly adjourning to his room at the Hanged Man in the evenings. He seemed to get along with Varric, somewhat surprisingly and spent most of his time at the seedy tavern with the dwarf when he wasn’t in his room.

Interestingly enough, Fenris noted he seemed to be studiously avoiding Sebastian, on the rare occasions that Sebastian even went to The Hanged Man.

He wasn’t sure what to do with that information, but he filed it away anyway.

Then came the day when Solona and Hawke summoned the relevant parties to Varric’s suite at night. They were almost ready to go ahead with the ritual, they said, but they still needed two things.

“What do you need?” Fenris asked almost immediately.

“The first one is pretty obvious: we need to break Anders out of the Gallows. And we need to make sure he never gets caught again,” Hawke said.

Fenris agreed with her silently.

“I’m going to bring Anders back to Vigil’s Keep,” Solona declared. She looked sideways at Fenris and added, “Where I can keep him safe.”

His gritted his teeth. He didn’t need to be reminded of his failure. He couldn’t even argue with her about taking Anders away, because Fenris knew as long as Anders remained in Kirkwall, he would not be safe. So he nodded again.

“What’s the second thing?” Varric asked.

Solona and Hawke both exchanged looks. Hawke wrung her hands before saying, “We need lyrium. A lot of it.”

“The ritual I know of requires a lot of lyrium to power it,” Solona interjected smoothly.

“Varric, I was hoping you might have some contacts with some lyrium smugglers?” Hawke asked hopefully.

“What, you think just because I’m a dwarf, it’s a given that I know lyrium smugglers?” Varric said in mocked outrage. Hawke just continued to look hopefully at him. He took one look at her shining face and sighed. “I do actually know someone. Give me a few days to set something up, but have you even figured out how to get Blondie out of the Gallows?”

She shrugged, “Anders’ contacts in the mage underground are still good. We can get him out easily.”

“You say it like it’s just another Tuesday,” Varric said.

Hawke blinked comically slowly. “Isn’t it?” she asked, putting on an exaggeratedly innocent look.

Varric chuckled. But no one else laughed. Hawke dropped her expression and coughed awkwardly into her hand.

“By the way, Fenris… Can we do the ritual at your mansion? It’s the last place the Templars would look,” Hawke said, changing the subject.

“You can,” he said, shrugging.

“Right, that’s all set then. Once Varric has got things set up with the lyrium, I’ll send a message along and we will all meet at my estate,” Hawke said.

Everyone voiced their assent in one way or another.


	11. Preparations Part II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two short chapters today. Sorry, we will get to the good part soon. I'm just trying to get the stage set up, if you get what I mean.

Everything was done and they were all at Hawke’s estate, even Sebastian, who had come along, saying that it was wrong for Anders to be made Tranquil after his Harrowing.

Fenris felt a little spark of anger at the man’s reasoning, but tamped down on it. Now was not the time.

“Varric, Aveline, Merrill and Solona will head to Fenris’ mansion and meet our lyrium contact there. Solona will start setting things up for the ritual. Merrill, you’ll be helping her with that,” Hawke said.

“Nathaniel, Fenris and Sebastian – don’t argue with me, Sebastian, you already volunteered for this,” Hawke warned when she saw him about to speak. She glared at him until he closed his mouth and nodded, albeit sullenly. “You three will come with me to the underground tunnels. Our contact is supposed to meet us somewhere here,” she pointed in the middle of the network of tunnels on the map she had laid out.

Fenris didn’t see how they were going to find the contact on something as vague as “somewhere among these tunnels” but he trusted Hawke.

“Isabela will be heading to the docks, to prepare the ship that will take Solona, Nathaniel and Anders back to Ferelden,” she concluded. She looked around at everyone. “Any questions?”

No one said anything.

“Varric, Solona and Isabela all know what they’re supposed to do. Everyone else just follow their lead when it comes to it and things should be fine,” she instructed again when no one seemed to have any questions.

Satisfied, Hawke chewed on her lower lip as her eyes went back to the map of tunnels.

“The most dangerous part will be retrieving Anders. Our contact from inside the Circle says security has tightened of late, after Anders was caught. Almost as if they’re expecting…” Hawke trailed off.

“For the cavalry to come rescue him?” Isabela suggested.

Hawke nodded grimly.

“It doesn’t matter. Tighter security or not, trap or not, we are going to get Anders out of there,” Solona interrupted firmly.

“Of course we are, but I’m still going to worry about walking straight into possibly a Templar trap,” Hawke said exasperatedly.

Solona looked at Hawke thoughtfully and said, “There is no point in worrying when you’ve already set your mind on doing something.”

Hawke almost glared at her, but Solona was already preparing to leave.

“Shall we go?” Solona asked the three companions who had been assigned to go with her. They all nodded and left with her.

Hawke narrowed her eyes at the door they left through before turning to Nathaniel, “Is she always like that?”

Nathaniel shrugged, “She always gets things done. I’ve never seen anything stand between the way of the Warden-Commander and something she had set her mind on.” Almost as an afterthought, the archer added, “Not even a sentient broodmother.”

“What? That’s impossible. Darkspawn are not sentient,” Sebastian exclaimed.

Nathaniel’s face darkened. “Who are we to say what is impossible and what is not?” he muttered, not even looking at Sebastian.

Sebastian looked like he wanted to say something further, but he was cut off by Isabela.

“As fascinating as it is to hear you two gorgeous men argue about the possibility of impossibility, I think I’ll take my leave. Time to steal – I mean, _prepare_ – a ship,” she said, not even batting an eyelash at her supposed slip of tongue.

“ _Isabela_ ,” Hawke said, her tone a sort of warning.

“I was just joking, sweet thing,” she said with a smile before strutting to the door. “ _Mostly_ ,” she added with a laugh as she darted out the door.

“Will that woman never take anything seriously?” Fenris asked, irritated.

Hawke shook her head, but she was smiling.

“Alright, boys, time for us to go. Be prepared for anything,” she said.

 _I have been prepared for months_ , Fenris thought. Out loud, he merely said, “Yes.”


	12. Unexpected

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whaaa- another chapter? So soon?? Yup. I was serious when I said I was suddenly inspired last night cos I had figured the plot out, so here's the next chapter. I am on a roll. Hopefully this streak lasts. Enjoy the unexpected!

The tunnels were dark and dank and smelled worse than Darktown on the hottest day of the year, a feat Fenris did not think was possible.

All of them had wrapped a damp cloth around the lower part of their face to keep out as much of the smell as they can.

The only light they had was a dim torch that Hawke was holding as she led the group through the tunnels.

The ground squelched under Fenris' feet and he almost regretted not wearing shoes.

He made a disgusted noise as he stepped on something slimy that he couldn't identify.

Hawke turned around and shushed him.

"This is ridiculous. If it was a trap, they already know we're here," he leaned in and murmured to her.

"Maybe we can sneak up on them before they realise," she hissed. Then she held up one finger to her lips, and pointed back at the tunnel they were going down, giving Fenris a meaningful look the entire time.

He huffed, but he followed her instructions.

Winding down the tunnels, the two rogues next to him were almost eeriely silent. Fenris was pretty good at being stealthy himself but they took it to a whole new level. He wondered how they even did it, especially Sebastian with his ostentatious white armour.

He glanced at Sebastian. Even with only the dim light from the torch, he could spot Sebastian easily, his white armour gleaming in the darkness.

Maybe they should have asked Sebastian to change armour, he thought. Too late now, he added.

Fenris had no idea how long they spent padding through the tunnels. Without any natural light, he had no way of telling how much time had passed. He had been focusing intently on following Hawke's back for so long, trying not to lose her.

The tunnels were starting to look the same to him. Turn right, left, left, right, or was it another left? He was sure they had passed by that oddly shaped rock formation before, or had they? What about that cluster of glowing lichen?

Quite suddenly, he felt the panic creep up into him. They were lost. They had lost their way in the tunnels and nobody would know where to find them and they would stumble around in the darkness till they expired.

He was about to get Hawke's attention to alert her to their situation when he almost crashed into her. She stood still with one open palm held up.

"We're here," she whispered. Fenris' panic subsided just as suddenly as it had appeared.

Nathaniel said his first words is as many hours, "How do you know?"

She pointed at a short wooden stake with a red cloth tied around it wedged between a tight cluster of rock formation. It was low enough to the ground that if Hawke hadn't known what to look for, they would have missed it completely.

The quiet archer nodded and gestured something at Hawke before going slightly further ahead, taking out his bow as he did so.

Sebastian, on the other hand, went back the way they came.

Hawke leaned back against the wall of the tunnel across from him, seeming to be relaxing, but Fenris saw her staff was right beside her, for easy immediate reach.

She gestured at the torch before snuffing it out and they were plunged into darkness.

Fenris resisted the urge to light his brands, just to be able to see something. He found that if he focused, he could hear just the lightest sound of Hawke breathing and robes rustling.

He rolled his back, hearing his armour clink slightly. He didn't know why, but he felt like he needed to confirm that he was still physically there in the darkness. It was like he didn't feel real when he couldn't see himself or anything else.

Shaking his head, he wondered when he started to overthink everything. His world used to be just about Danarius, pleasing his _master_ , he thought with a sneer. And then it had been about survival, run and survive, kill and survive. And then... and then what?

And then he had met Hawke, and the rest of them. And Anders.

He sighed. Anders. He hoped the mage was truly being escorted through the tunnels by Hawke's contacts right now.

In a few hours, against all odds, if they were really, _really_ lucky, he would see the real Anders again. Hopefully.

He tried to tamp down on the hope that blossomed in him. He didn't want to have them dashed again.

After another eternity in the darkness, he saw a bob of light coming down the tunnel. It hurt his eyes, so he shielded them with one gauntleted hand.

As the light came nearer, Fenris' eyes adjusted and he tried to identify the figures.

"It's them!" Hawke said with relief, her voice right next to Fenris' ear. He almost jumped; he hadn't realised she had moved.

There were two figures, Fenris saw now, and they were walking faster after Hawke's call.

Fenris realised one of them was a Templar, more because he heard the trademark noise that Templar armour makes before he saw it.

"Hawke?" he asked, his voice low with warning.

She shook her head impatiently, and waved off his question.

As they got closer, Fenris saw there was no need to worry.

"Sorry we're late. He was being watched by-" Carver said as he neared them, with a silent Anders behind him.

"Anders!" Hawke interrupted and threw her arms around the mage.

"Hello, Lady Hawke," he greeted her. He didn't even seem to be bothered by the fact that they were meeting in the middle of the darkest, dankest tunnels Fenris had ever been in.

Almost absently she said, "Don't call me that," even as she continued to envelope him in a hug. She eventually stepped back and turned to Carver, whose scowl dropped away when he saw how truly relieved his sister was.

He started talking to her in a murmur, but Fenris' attention was on Anders.

"Mage," he said, nodding his head at him in acknowledgement. Anders returned the nod, his face still serenely empty of any emotion.

"Do you- do you want to go back to the way you were?" Fenris asked hesitantly.

Anders looked at him quietly long enough that Fenris started to feel uncomfortable and was about to call off his question. But he answered just then.

"I remember being angry a lot," he started, his eyes drifting away to look somewhere in the distance. He paused and a brief look of confusion passed his face. "I was scared too, but it was mostly anger. There was... something else," he said softly.

His eyes focused back on Fenris. "You were... the source of a lot of... frustration," he said haltingly.

Fenris looked away. He didn’t want to hear about how much the mage hated him, something he had actively cultivated for so long.

Hawke tapped Fenris' shoulder. "We need to go now. Carver said it won't be too long before they realise Anders went missing," she said urgently.

He nodded, gesturing at Anders to follow them.

And then hell broke loose.

"Hawke! Templars!" Fenris heard Nathaniel bark from somewhere in the distance. The sound of arrows embedding into flesh and deflecting off armour filled the air suddenly.

She cursed out loud. "I fucking knew it was a trap!" she said, even as she cast a light wisp so she could aim her spells better.

"Shit, I made sure no one was following us," Carver said.

"Take Anders and go back the way we came! Sebastian's that way," Hawke yelled at Carver.

He didn't even flinch at being ordered by his sister. He just acted. Tugging Anders with one arm, he grabbed at his sword with the other. They ran back down the tunnel.

"Fenris, with me," Hawke ordered.

Nathaniel was falling back into the small niche they were gathered at, still loosing arrow after arrow.

Fenris counted at least seven Templars rushing towards them.

He almost grinned with bloodlust as he activated his brands and streaked past Hawke, who was already throwing a fireball at the group of Templars.

Before the Templars could react, Fenris had phased back with a hand through the first Templar's heart. He ripped it out with a growl, before unsheathing his sword and focusing on the others.

He flickered in and out of physical solidity as he weaved in between the Templars, cutting them down and dancing out of the way before they could counter.

He had counted only seven earlier, but it seemed like they were never-ending. He realised there was almost a whole group of them streaming down the tunnels.

While the Templars' numbers didn't count for much in these narrow tunnels, he knew they couldn't hold out against them forever. They had to retreat.

"Hawke," he shouted.

"Fall back, let's go," she shouted back, catching his meaning immediately.

He phased again and streaked back to where Hawke and Nathaniel were. Hawke threw a shoddy paralysis glyph in between themselves and the Templars, which trapped the first few of them. She then called up a wall of fire right in front of the paralysis glyph.

"Go!" she urged.

The three of them ran back the way they came, even as Nathaniel loosed a few last arrows into the thick of the Templars.

They ran and ran and ran, and it seemed like almost no time to Fenris before they neared the entrance where they had came through earlier.

Bursting out the entrance, he only had a moment of relief before he realised what was happening.

Anders was shielded by Sebastian and Carver against the entrance, and they were surrounded by a ring of Templars.

"Champion. How nice of you to finally join us," he heard a familiar voice say.


	13. Madness

“Meredith,” Hawke spat out the Knight-Commander’s name.

“And so you prove you are no better than a wild rebel apostate, breaking out your fellow mages,” Meredith said, pointing her sword at Hawke, then Anders, before returning to Hawke.

“Or should I have left my friend in your _care_?” Hawke retorted.

“I was keeping him safe in the Gallows, from everyone and himself,” Meredith said testily, her sword still trained on Hawke.

“He passed his Harrowing!” Sebastian protested.

“He is a Grey Warden and outside of your jurisdiction,” Nathaniel said, his calm veneer still unbroken.

“He is an apostate, and now he is Tranquil! You are never getting your friend back,” Meredith snapped, swinging her sword in a downwards stroke.

“No,” Fenris said, stepping forwards. “We will reverse the rite of Tranquility,” he heard himself saying.

“Impossible!” Meredith let out a harsh breath.

“If we didn’t think it was possible, we wouldn’t have broken him out of the Gallows. You’re right, our friend would be gone,” Hawke said, then her voice turned to steel, “But we can do it, so you will step out of our way _now_.”

“Heresy! Blasphemy! Kill them all!” Meredith screeched.

The other Templars looked unsure and shaken. One of them stepped up, and Fenris realized it was Cullen.

“Champion… you can reverse the rite of Tranquility?” he asked.

“We believe so,” she nodded her head.

“What are you doing, Cullen? Do as I command! Kill them!” Meredith screamed at him.

The Knight-Captain looked confused, “But Knight-Commander, surely this is worth looking into? This discovery could change the Templar Order.”

She glared daggers at him, and looked at the other Templars. They all looked away and some of them lowered their swords.

A grim look passed over her face. “My own Knight-Captain has betrayed me and my Templars have abandoned me. The mages think themselves above the Templars. I see I no longer have a choice.” Her lips settled into a thin line.

“If you are not with me, you can only be against me,” she declared before raising her sword up.

When she slammed the pommel of her sword on the ground, Fenris felt the vibrations through his feet. Something creaked and groaned. Something huge.

Fenris looked up. The guardian statues from the Gallows were moving fast towards them on the edge of Hightown.

He saw disbelief etched onto Cullen’s face from his periphery. Sebastian, for the first time since Fenris had met him, cursed out loud.

Hawke was shouting at Nathaniel to take Anders away, and the stoic archer obeyed without question. He grabbed Anders, who seemed to only be reacting to what was happening with mild curiousity, and ran.

Meredith jumped into the fight with the guardian statues by her side.

The fight with the Knight-Commander was long and bloody. She somehow summoned the slave statues from the Gallows to life as well and Fenris grimly cut them down with a spark of satisfaction when they shattered to the ground in pieces.

Hawke had trapped Meredith a crushing prison but she easily broke out of it, to Hawke’s shock.

Undeterred, Hawke threw a stone fist at her. Meredith deflected it with her sword, which was suddenly glowing an unnatural red.

It was weird but Fenris thought he could feel that sword pulsing angrily, throbbing painfully through his lyrium tattoos.

Meredith was gaining on Hawke, who seemed to be watching her warily but was not casting anything. The Knight-Commander grinned triumphantly, as she raised her sword to bring it down on Hawke.

At the last moment, Hawke threw out her hands, and spikes of ice shot up in front of her. Meredith reacted quick enough to roll away before the ice did any real damage.

Meredith’s face was twisted into an ugly mask of fury. She advanced towards Hawke again, but stumbled suddenly.

She looked down at her left foot in surprise, and Fenris saw that her foot had turned to stone. Before he could register what was happening, the stone spread through her body, as Meredith screamed in agony and rage. And then even her screams were cut off as she turned to stone completely.

No, not entirely stone. Cracks of red glowed throughout the grotesque effigy, Meredith’s lips forever caught in a silent scream.

Suddenly everything stopped. The noise of the battles died, and the only sounds left were everyone’s panting breath.

“Maker’s breath, what happened to her?” Cullen finally said.

Hawke approached the statue carefully. She examined it briefly and then said in disgust, “Red lyrium.” She glanced at Fenris and added, “She must have bought the red lyrium idol from Bartrand, had it made into a sword.” She pointed at the sword still clutched in Meredith’s stone grip.

Cullen looked confused, so Hawke explained about their Deep Roads expedition and how Bartrand betrayed them for the red lyrium idol and how it had driven him mad.

“He said he sold it off to some woman. Now we know who that woman was,” Hawke said.

Cullen glanced at the statue.

“I should have known something was amiss. I should have stopped her,” he said, in hushed whispers.

“Yes, you should have. You could have stopped her persecuting all those mages,” Hawke said, her tone flat.

He kept silent but he looked stricken.

“Enough of this, we must catch up with Anders and Nathaniel,” Fenris interrupted.

Hawke looked at Cullen disdainfully, “You’ve got a lot of work to do, Cullen. Make sure you don’t screw it up again.”

They turned to leave, but Cullen suddenly grabbed Fenris’ arm.

“Wait! C- Can you really make Anders… normal again?” Cullen asked, sounding desperate.

Fenris looked at the man, suddenly seeming to curl in on himself. He almost pitied him.

“We hope so,” he said simply.

“Will you…will you tell him I’m sorry?” Cullen asked, almost pleading. He averted his eyes from Fenris when he tried to stare him down.

“Stay away from him,” was Fenris’ only warning as he shook the Templar off his arm and left with the others.


End file.
